Maybe Later, Sir
by IvyShort
Summary: A series of Royai drabbles, written as they pop into my head, varying between lighthearted and serious. Chapter 51: "You can cry. It's okay."
1. Beginnings

**Hola peeps! Chapters 2, 3, and 4 have been edited, and it only took me two years! Whoop whoop!**

**Edited 12/29/11. Not too much, just enough for me to bear it. New readers, I'll be editing all of these drabbles over the next few months, and I'd advise you to read chapters 2-15 after you've read 16-31 – 2-15 are the main body of the drabbles I'll be editing.**

Thank you, and enjoy!

"Ah, you must be my new apprentice. Come in, come in."

Roy stared at the man at the door, trying to grasp what he hadn't on the train - that he had to spend an entire year away from everything familiar in his life. He wasn't sure if he like that idea, even if Berthold Hawkeye was one of the best alchemists in the country.

Master Hawkeye motioned towards a door on Roy's right. "Here's your room, apprentice. There's the study. Upstairs is my daughter's room, but you won't care about that for a couple more years, and I doubt you'll stick around until then."

Hawkeye chuckled as Roy looked up at him with a bewildered expression. He opened his mouth to ask the older man what exactly he meant but was cut off almost immediately by a blur colliding into his chest.

"And here she is. Roy, meet my daughter Riza. Riza, this is the new apprentice."

"Hello." Roy said, thrusting his hand towards the girl. She scowled and ignored it, flicking her blond bangs out of her eyes.

"Don't mind her, apprentice. She's shy, and she doesn't take to my apprentices." His Sensei paused. "If you can break through her shell, I might just teach you the secret of flame alchemy."


	2. Midnight

**Edited 1/16/2012**

**Yes, I'm editing my author's notes too. Some of them are just plain embarrassing T.T**

The deep chime of the grandfather clock tolling midnight woke Roy from his fitful slumber on the narrow couch. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced up at the clock, grateful for the sliver of moonlight that illuminated its face.

A soft scratching in the next room diverted his attention.

She was still there, her pencil scribbling madly across the paper. There were bags under her eyes, but she did not even stop to yawn as she turned the page of the huge tome.

"Riza," he said softly, "Riza, you have to go to bed."

"I'm almost done. Almost done," she muttered, waving him off with an annoyed scowl.

"It's midnight. You said you were almost done three hours ago. It's time to go to bed."

"All I need is five more minute," she said, meeting his eyes for the briefest second.

Roy sighed. "Fine, five minutes. Do you want some milk?

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Yea, sure. Thanks.

When Roy came back with her glass, he noticed immediately that there was no pencil scratching at the paper, no flip of a page every half minute. The only sound was of deep, even breaths. She had fallen _asleep_. Less than five minutes and she had fallen _asleep._

Nothing to do now but take her to bed – she certainly needed it. Gently scooping her up, he held Riza close and prayed to the god he didn't even believe in that Master Hawkeye wasn't going to wake up.

As he ascended the stairs as quietly as he could, his breath shallow and quick. There would be no telling what would happen if Master Hawkeye knew they were up this late. It was a good thing Riza was still small for her age - he barely felt her in his arms. Roy clutched the sleeping girl tighter as he skipped the creaky stair, smelling the lavender soap she used every day to wash it.

She stirred as he set her down on her bed, and her eyes fluttered as he pulled a blanket up.

"Goodnight, Riza. Sleep well," he whispered as he left the room, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Goodnight, Roy," she mumbled, too tired to raise her voice high enough for him to hear. Had he kissed her on the cheek, or had that been part of her dream?

**Thanks to Surburia for being my first reviewer It means a lot to me!**


	3. Promises not yet fufilled

Riza sighed as she stepped off the train at Resembool. Paperwork could always be mailed, but she knew very well that top secret documents could be dangerous the wrong hands. She wasn't exactly sure of the contents of the envelopes she carried under her arm, but they were sure to be important.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" She heard a voice call, confusion ringing out clear as a bell. It took a moment to register that the voice was calling to her- it had been quite a while since she'd been a lieutenant. As Riza glanced around for the speaker, she spotted Winry Rockbell on the road, holding a bag of groceries and looking up at Riza with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, hello Winry. I have to get some paperwork to Edward and Alphonse. Have they gotten back yet?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer. Winry looked down for a moment and sighed.

"No, and they were supposed to be back six months ago. I'm worried." Riza's eyes widened- she'd been expecting the brothers to be back at the Rockbell house by now. They might be juvenile still, but Ed wouldn't want Winry to worry- he was extremely protective of the young woman.

"Still gone? I'll come back later, then," Riza said, glancing up at the train schedule. A day and a half's wait for any train going east – an inconvenience for sure, if not plain foolish on whomever scheduled her trip.

" You can stay with us until the next train arrives, Lieutenant."

"Thank you Winry, but I don't need-…"

"Please, it's no bother."

With a small nod, Riza consented, and found herself quite at home a few minutes later seated at the Rockbell table.

"Ed said he would be back in a year, and he called last month to tell me he was all right. Granny went to Rush Valley last month- I don't know why, and she said she'd be back last week." Winry looked down into the contents of her half empty mug. "But he hasn't come, and his letters and phone calls have stopped. I'm so worried, but I'm sure he's fine, he can take care of himself." Riza put her hand on the shoulder of the younger woman.

"Why don't you alert the military?" Winry shook her head.

"No, I don't… I don't think… He's not even…" she stammered.

"We can find him, Winry. It's going to be all right." Winry looked at Riza, revealing she was crying.

_I'm just afraid he'll never come back._

"He's not going to forget about you. Ed won't die. He has too much to live for." She said gently, surprised at how motherly she sounded. Winry wiped her eyes and smiled at Riza.

"Thanks."

_An 18 year old Riza sat in the living room, tears silently streaming down her face. A plump woman sits next to hug with her arms wrapped around Riza, comforting her with the occasional "it's all right" and stroking her short hair._

_"Now, you've been sitting here crying for 10 minutes. Would you mind telling me why you're crying, Riza?"_

_"I-I-it's Roy. He…he…he…"_

_"Oh, he didn't!"_

_"Left. He left to join the military." The woman purses her lips._

_"Of course he did. Reckless young man such as himself, with bravery by the bucket and brains stowed away in some distant drawer of his mind. He wants to prove his worth, Riza. Don't you cry, he'll be back soon. And even if he isn't, even if he leaves this Earth forever, you can bet you were in his dying thoughts, and that he whispered an apology in his dying breath. But Roy won't die, Riza. He has you to live for." Riza smiled, the tears still wet on her face._

_"It's not just that, Mrs. Dawdson. Before he left, he transmuted me this." _

_She unclenched her fist. Maria Dawdson looked down and the small object. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle!" she said, picking it up and examining it. "What good taste that boy has!"_

_"He said it wasn't the real one- I get to choose it when he gets back. This one… this one is a promise." Mrs. Dawdson gently closed Riza's fingers around it, patting the younger hand a few times._

_"Just don't let your father see," she said, winking._

As she pulled Winry into a tight embrace, she took a moment to brush her fingers over her dog tags. Sandwiched between them was the ring – a trinket of the promise Roy Mustang would one day fulfill.


	4. Waltz

A/N: At what point does a drabble become a oneshot? Or are they exactly the same?

This is the sequel- sorta, I guess- to the previous chapter.

"May I have this dance, Captain Hawkeye?" Roy asked, holding out his hand to Riza, not even bothering to wait for the answer.

The annual Central Military ball was usually a dull, gloomy affair that always lasted too long for everyone's tastes. This year was not much different – Gracia Hughes had managed to take charge of the event, but even she had to jump through so many hoops and sign so many documents that the most she could do was get everyone out of uniform.

The song echoing through the ballroom was a slow waltz , popular almost forty years prior. In order to dance it properly, the partners had to have history and expertise, something Roy and Riza certainly did. During their private, late night dances in the attic to dusty old records, the pair had stumbled across many different dances – including the one playing.

_"You're doing it wrong," Roy said, leaning in the doorframe and smirking._

_"Well, let's see you do any better," Riza shot back from the middle of the room, where she had been dancing with a pretend partner._

_"Well, first of all, your hand goes here," Roy said, walking up to Riza and gently placing her hand on his shoulder. "Then my hand goes here, and I, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…" Slowly and rather clumsily, they made their way around the attic._

There was no hint of clumsiness now. The pair danced like they were made for each other. The steps he did wrong, she covered up, and the steps she stumbled on were quickly forgotten as he whisked her into a spin.

"Riza, you're leading again," he murmured. A hint of a blush crept into her cheeks, and he smirked.

"Sorry sir, force of habit."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Sir? Why so formal, Captain?" He spun her again.

"I'm afraid it's another force of habit."

"It wasn't always," he whispered. They danced in silence for a while, simply savoring being inches apart and not needing an excuse. Riza's dress had a full back, but even so Roy's hand was placed slightly lower than a typical pair so as not to touch the burn scars. The ones, he thought with a sickening wave of guilt crashing over him, that_ he _had inflicted. He still hated the fact that he had caved into Riza's request and burned her back. He glanced down at her burgundy dress. It was simple and elegant, exactly the shade of Riza's eyes. Roy briefly wondered how many guns she had expertly concealed in the many folds of the skirt. As he brought his eyes back up to her face, he noticed her dog tags dancing around her collar bone. Her dog tags and the ring he had given her ten years ago.

To think all this time he thought she had lost it. He cursed his stupidity.

"You have quite the interesting display of jewelry, Captain. Generally one wears rings on their fingers." Riza immediately turned bright red. And Roy thought he could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks. "Like me," he whispered as he leaned it close, motioning to the matching ring on his left ring finger.

As the last note of the song chimed, Roy felt a push from behind, and his face fell onto Riza's and their lips met. Thankfully, she kissed back.

From the table where she had been watching the whole thing, Gracia Hughes smirked at Havoc very unlike her normal self and held out her hand.

"Pay up." Scowling, Havoc fished out his wallet and handed over a large stack of cenz.

"I still say having Elysia pushing him is cheating," he muttered.


	5. Do it

**Whazzup? I have returned! I dedicate this chapter to Conifer, mah bff, and sunarose, for her beautiful Lingfan drabble. Wish I could write Lingfan. The world needs more Lingfan. I hope you can recreate an amazing drawing. That one was AMAZING. I wanna frame it and hang it in my room. That's how amazing it was.**

"Do it." His team- minus Riza, plus Armstong- said as one. Breda, Fuery, Havoc, Armstrong and ever Falman had backed Roy up into a corner outside the office.

"Do what?" Roy asked, even though he knew what was coming. It had only been a matter of time before his team had found out what he'd carried in his pocket for weeks and who it was for. And very sadly for Roy, this is when the confrontation had begun.

"You know what we're talking about, Mustang." Havoc said smoothly- obviously the self elected leader of the group. Behind him Major Armstrong erupted into tears and engulfed Roy in a bone crushing hug.

"Such love, for it to be left alone for 10 whole years, and forever thinking that perhaps the other had forgotten abou you! What compassion! What dedication! Come, Colonel! Let me show you the Armstrong proposing technique, which has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations!" Roy wondered briefly how Armstrong had managed to take his shirt off. The rest of the men threw glares at Armstrong, shushing him and peering warily at the door where Hawkeye sat at her desk, looking at her watch and shaking her head, unaware of the chaos outside. Roy sighed.

"I'll do it right after work. Promise." He said, raising his hands in defeat. His team shook their heads in unison.

"You kept her waiting for ten years, you idiot. You're going to do it now, and in 5 minutes she'll be wearing that ring on her finger." Havoc said.

"But I don't even know what I'm going to say! I have to think about it!" He protested.

"It'll come to you. I've heard it does. And even if you make a complete fool out of yourself- which wouldn't be a surprise- Hawkeye's still going to say yes. She kept that old ring that you transmuted for her for 10 years, didn't she? Now go." Havoc said, pushing him into the office.

"Late again, sir? I hope you don't make this even more of a habit than it already is." Riza said, without even looking up. Roy looked back at the door, which had 5 excited fares smooshed up against it, trying to catch every detail. They nodded encouragingly and Armstrong touched a handkerchief to his eyes. If they hadn't stolen his gloves, every single one of them would be ash right now. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Roy walked up behind Riza's desk before he lost his nerve. Riza looked up, mildly confused.

"I know I'm supposed to kneel for this, but I have a feeling you aren't going to take me seriously if I do." He said as he fished the ring out of the deep recesses of his pocket and dropped it on the forms she was filling out. "And don't worry, Riza. This one's more than a promise."

Nothing happened for a moment. Then a single tear dropped onto the paper, smudging several lines of text. Riza stood up and flung herself into his arms and kissed him.

From behind the cracked door, five anxious faces split into wide grins and whoops of joy. Armstrong burst into tears again. They flung open the door and paraded into the office, completely ruining the moment. Honestly, it surprised Roy that Riza just laughed, slid the ring on her finger, and didn't even flicker toward her gun.

"And why the celebration?" They stopped and turned.

"Fuhrer Grumman, sir!" Havoc stammered. The Fuhrer smiled. "We were just… celebrating… the fact that… Sergeant Fuery lost his last baby tooth, sir!"

"Well, congratulations Sergeant! I think this momentous occasion calls for a melon! Here you are, and I must go!" The Fuhrer handed Havoc a 20 pound watermelon casually, and walked out the door.

"That was weird." Havoc said, looking down at the melon and looking rather bewildered.

"Sergeant Fuery's last baby tooth?" Falman said with an eyebrow raised.

"What's with Fuhrers and melons? First Bradely, now Grumman. It's madness."

"If you give melons to people when you're Fuhrer, I swear I'll shoot you." Riza warned Roy, leaning in to continue the kiss that was interrupted when the team had burst in.

"And now, to the Armstrong wedding planning technique! It has been passed down through my family for generations!"

**Review? Remember the sunshine and rainbows. I got depressed the other day- my friend's dog died and I read really sad drabbles. I'm not ACTUALLY depressed- and nearly killed off Riza. Then Conifer stopped me. **


	6. Mischief Managed 72

**So hello again! Two updates in 24 hours. I'm spoiling you. **

** This one goes out to Conifer. She's sick today, and I was sad, so I wrote this drabble. Well, actually, I wrote it a while ago, and she's already read it, but it's the thought that counts. **

** Thank you to Lou Nebin for being the only person I don't know to review. Oh, and Surburia. Thanks to Conifer and sunarose for reviewing. I larf you guys. The theme list is amazing, btw. **

"Right, Fuery. Here's the plan." Havoc whispered to the terrified Sergeant. Both of them were crouched outside the office door, and could clearly hear Roy and Riza bickering.

"I don't know. What if Hawkeye finds out it was us? She'd be furious. She'll shoot at us!" Fuery whispered, obviously petrified at the very thought of being on Hawkeye's bad side.

"She'll shoot at us, but she won't shoot us." Havoc pointed out wisely, before freezing. "They're coming! Hurry!" Fuery sighed. _There goes my judgement. _He thought as he picked up the rope. He saw the door open, and pulled when Havoc gave the signal. _Yup. Right out the window._ Fuery managed to stay long enough to see Hawkeye trip before running for his life as silently as possible.

Riza felt herself falling, and automatically put her hands in front of her and hoped to run into the wall and not the floor. Of course, the universe was not going to be kind to her and simply let the wall stop her. No, she had to fall onte Roy Mustang. Now, Roy fell into the wall after she fell onto him, but Riza would have rather met the wall face first. She'd been harassing Roy all morning and did not want to make a fool out of herself. Mumbling an apology, she straightened her uniform and began to gather up all the papers she had dropped. Roy caught her arm, and she instantly recognized the mischievous glimmer in his black eyes.

"If you needed a hug, Hawkeye, you could have just asked." He teased, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Riza immediately turnind bright red, but didn't pull away. Hugs were nice once in a while.

Fuery peeked around the corner and was pleasantly surprised to see the Colonel holding Hawkeye with a smile on his face. Hawkeye's head was turned away from him- thank god- and Fuery desperately hoped she had a smile on her face too.

But even if she did, he would still blame it all on Havoc.

**I am now less in need of sunshine and rainbows, and more in need of bunnies, pandas, and a cure all for Conifer. I'm sure she'll get better faster if you review and comment on her DA stuff- she's NeverMidnight. Yes, I'm talking to you.**


	7. Attic

**Again this one goes out to Conifer. This one's theme is "Attic"- dunno the number, so don't ask. Conifer, don't give up on your drawing this time. Pleeeeease. Hope this meets your standards. They're maaaarried. I love married Royai drabbles.**

**And congratulations on keeping your internet and normal life separate, sunarose. **

Roy coughed. The attic was full of spiders and dust, and moving the boxes that had sat there for over 10 years was not doing anything to improve the air.

"I can't believe you never cleaned this place out." He looked sideways at Riza, who was balancing a two year old Mae on her hip and shifting through the clothes and pictures that had gone in the garbage pile, occasionally raising an eyebrow at Roy's judgment and placing it on the neat stack of items they were keeping.

"I only left a few weeks after the funeral, you forget. I didn't think of what would happen to the house. I felt like Father was still living here, and that all I had to do was tidy it one more time. Besides, it's not that much worse than it was when I left." Mae sneezed, and Riza held her handkerchief up to cover the toddler's nose.

"It's about time for her nap, isn't it?" Roy asked, checking his watch. Mae skood her head forcefully.

"No nap Daddy. Mae big girl now. Doesn't need nap." She pouted towards her father- Roy was always the first to give in to Mae's pleas.

"I don't know, Mae. Daddy's big too, but he still loves naps." Roy said.

"Maybe Daddy loves naps a little too much." Riza said, winking.

"Silly Daddy." Mae said simply.

"Right Mae. Naptime!" Riza said a little too cheerfully." Mae immediately started thrashing around, screaming her protest. Riza held her firmly, stood up, and gave Roy the 'Get something done' look as she left the attic. Roy smiled and kept sifting through the junk, trying to find the clothes that hadn't been devoured by moths, the pictures that hadn't been torn, the alchemy reaserch that was still readable- not much of that, considering most of it was already on Riza's back-, and the toys that only needed dusting.

It seemed like ages ago that Riza had been small and innocent enough to wear the bright sundresses that he was finding in every box, each time just a little smaller than the last one. Roy was glad he hadn't reached the part of the attic with Riza's mother's things- he wasn't sure what to do with them. Riza hadn't known her mother much, and most of her recollections were half memories of her death and old, faded photographs.

"Mae was exhausted. She's already fast asleep, and it only took 5 minutes." Riza paused and looked around the attic. "We're going to need every second of your week off to clean this place up." Riza knelt down beside him and pulled a long, frilly blue dress out of the box. It was something that today she wouldn't be caught dead wearing. "This one was always my favorite."

"You only wore it once." He said, remembering the day that she had answered the door and he had first seen his future. "But it was my favorite too." He whispered in her ear.

"Mae will like it, once she gets a little bigger."

" It's odd, seeing all your old clothes."

"Not just mine. There are Father's-" She twirled an old fashioned style hat on her finger and plopped it on Roy's head. "-and some of yours, even." The hat slid over Roy's eyes, and she laughed.

"I always knew Father had a big head." Roy slid the hat off and peered into the next box. This one was full of photos, neatly stacked in two piles. The ones on top were facedown. Upon inspection, it was a picture of Riza and her mother laughing, and the other was Berthold Hawkeye smiling next to Riza and Roy.

"You had such short hair then." He said, pointing.

"We all did. Yours was even shorter than mine!" She countered.

"Yea, but you were a girl. Girls are supposed to have long hair!"

"Well, it's long now. Is that good enough?" He pondered for a second.

"Well, I can appreciate it now. I couldn't then." He smiled and grabbed Riza, undoing her hair from the clip in the process of leaning down for a kiss. Roy held her close as the finished the box.

Late that night, Riza looked at the other picture- the one Roy had distracted her from so she wouldn't stop laughing.

"See that Mom? I told you my husband would be better than yours."

**Reviews.**

**I want more reviews**

**Please don't think me commanding**

**Refrigerator.**

**This was a haiku brought to you by IvyShort's sunshine and rainbows.**


	8. Mirror

***munches on a mini bagel, trying to duplicate Ed's talents***

**So, what's up? I know sunarose is going to post another Lingfan drabble before Saturday or I will be unhappy. Take that as a warning, my friend. **

**Now, onto the drabble. This was partly inspired by "Mirror", # something-or-other on the amazing list of 274 themes given to me by sunarose (love this thing), but mostly by "Taking Over Me" by Evanescence, so keep that in mind. The "that day" they keep referring to is not the promised day or anything, but you could think that if you wanted. **

**Sunshine and rainbows!**

**And in this, I use hell like they did in the manga. So no yelling at me, kay?**

Whenever Roy looked in mirror, he saw Riza, ghostly and pale, her cheek red with blood. All the mirrors that he owned were facedown, so as not to trigger memories of that day- the last day he had seen Riza. The day before she disappeared and his life fell to pieces.

"He's been asking for you again." Rebecca said, her hard stare drilling into the shape of Riza. Riza looked away and continued to fold clothes into boxes.

"I can't. He'll just get hurt, Rebecca." He voice was firm, but she kept her eyes on the clothes.

"You said you would follow him to hell, Riza."

"If I don't leave, that's where he'll end up. At least with me gone, he's got a chance." Rebecca gritted her teeth and tried to refrain from throttling her friend.

"You know he'd rather face hell with you than heaven all alone. Think, Riza! Stop lying to yourself and sort through your thoughts!"

"I have, Rebecca. I swore to protect him, and obviously I can't do that, because he keeps getting hurt. He can always get another bodyguard- one who'll actually do their job. I accepted the transfer to West, and I'm not changing my mind. He's better off without me." Riza's voice wavered a little on the last sentence, but she didn't cave. Rebecca sighed and left, yelling back at Riza as she walked down the hallway.

"Call me when you realize how stupid you sound!"

"This is the right choice, isn't it?" Riza murmured to Black Hayate. "If I leave, he'll actually be protected. Roy won't get hurt." Black Hayate just looked at Riza, a bored expression etched onto his face. Riza's shell cracked just enough to feel tears welling up in her eyes.

" Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't gone after her, sir." Maria Ross commented as she set down Roy's daily paperwork. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

"What am I supposed to do? I don't even know where she is. It's hard to chase someone when they don't want to be found."

"I heard she transferred to West, sir. Hasn't Lieutenant Catalina told you? I thought she'd tell you first, seeing as you were Hawkeye's commanding officer and all." Maria winked and left the room, leaving Roy sitting at his desk, faced with a load of paperwork that usually was spread across 3 days. He sighed and picked up the first one, but the paper under it caught his eye. It was handwritten, and most definitely not paperwork. Abandoning the form after reading the first word, he reached over and began reading.

Riza stood in her new apartment, surrounded by boxes and the smell of fresh paint. Even though it was a cheery place, Riza felt even more guilty and close to breaking every second that she stood there. Her tears had dried up on the train, after countless people leaning in and asking her what was wrong. Every time, she had stumbled over the simple question, eventually giving the concerned stranger the "Don't worry, I'm just leaving a place I've been for a long time." She couldn't say she was fine- that was lying. But then again, she kept lying to herself.

"West City, huh?" Roy muttered as he looked over the letter again, resisting the urge to burn it until there was nothing left. But he couldn't. It was the last time Riza had written his name, and maybe one of the only times she would ever simply address him as Roy.

Riza squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of avoiding the hot tears that had replenished themselves in the 3 hours since she had dried them up. Even with her blankets wrapped around her as tight as she could, Riza was still cold. It wasn't because West City was colder than Central no, it was more than that. Eventually she fell asleep- a fitful doze that was only deep enough to dream.

~*~  
Roy slept on the train, hoping against hope that for once in the month she had been gone, his dreams weren't his memories of that day, or the single memory of her crying face stained with blood.

Then again, you can't choose your dreams.

As Riza twisted her hair up and inspected it in the mirror, she could almost feel Roy's arms closing in on her, around her, protecting her, like they had on that day. She saw his face, drawn and silent, in the mirror, and looked around for him. When he wasn't there, she screamed and threw her brush at the mirror, shattering it. She fell to her knees. Why was protecting him so hard? Why did it hurt so much?

A knock at the door shook Riza out of her hysteria. Breathing deeply, she dried the tears that had leaked and opened it, expecting the mailman. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of Roy, wringing his hands and looking nervous. She froze and slammed the door before she went even more insane and the hallucination started to talk.

"Riza?" Too late. Did she really miss him that much? Did she actually believe this was to protect him? Had this been the wrong choice? A thousand questions ran through her mind at the same instant, and she almost missed the next sentence he spoke.  
"Riza, please. Don't run away again. Do you have any idea of how much that hurt?" Riza took several deep, shaky breaths as Roy started to talk again.

"Why did you run?" Riza looked at the closed door in horror. "I know you were lying in the letter when you said that it was to protect me."

"But it was." She whispered, then repeated it again louder. She knew it was a lie, but she really didn't know the truth.

The door opened and Roy gathered her up in an embrace, a strong, firm, real embrace that no phantom or hallucination could ever give.

"You were doing a fine job before you left. It was my own stupidity that you couldn't guard from me." The tears spilled from both of their eyes.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into his shoulder. He only held her tighter, as if scared that she would fade away.

***starts on her 3****rd**** mini bagel, so far failing miserably at duplicating Ed***

**It's so serious and dark. I debated adding a line about a young, male neighbor seeing and being heartbroken that Riza was taken, but decided against it. Heh.**

**Review please! Yes, I'm talking to you.**


	9. Birthday

**Hello everyone! How has your September 29****th****? I hope it was amazing, because today was, of course, ROY MUSTANG'S BIRTHDAY! YAAAAAAY! **

**So, of course, I had to write this birthday themed drabble. Sunarose shall update her Lingfan drabbles as soon as she can get on the computer for more than 5 minutes. I love her. **

**Enjoy! And review! Do you want me to write another haiku? (Haha, that rhymed. That's all you get for now.)**

Roy Mustang hated birthdays. Each passing September 29th reminded him that he was one one year closer to being an old, grizzled man with gray hair and only memories of his dashing good looks. He envied children who would wait in anticipation for their birthday, and wake up at 5am, jumping on their parents bed like it was Christmas morning (which wasn't so far from the truth).

But never Roy. Christmas had never put up with what she called "that nonsense". And Master Hawkeye had never even bothered to learn more than his apprentice's name. Only Riza had ever remembered- or even bothered to find out about- his birthday. The first year he spent in the Hawkeye house, she had baked him a chocolate cake in secrecy, then snuck it into his room under her father's nose. They had stayed up all night, silencing their laughter and shoving cake in each other's faces. He chuckled inwardly, remembering the look on Master Hawkeye's face when he had come in in the morning to his daughter and apprentice sitting crosslegged on the floor with frosting in their hair.

"Ho, Chief! Happy birthday! You're one year closer to being as old as Grumman! Congratulations!" Havoc said, starling Roy out of his memories as he slapped him on the back.

"Mm, thank you Havoc." Roy muttered. Havoc went back to his desk looking rather dejected.

The rest of the day passed with an occasional 'happy birthday' and a present from Fuery, who had held it out to him like Roy was going to burn him to a crisp. The team filtered out until only he and Riza were left.

"Good job getting through half of tomorrow's paperwork. I honestly thought you'd complain." Riza said as she tidied up her desk. He looked up, bewildered.

"What did you just say?" She just smiled.

"I'll be over at 8 with the cake."

"Chocolate?" Roy asked hopefully.

"Is there any other kind?" She said, winking. Roy watched her leave and looked down at his presents. No wonder Fuery was scared when he gave it to him. An umbrella could come in useful, though. He shoved the new ignition gloves that Riza had dropped on his desk into his pocket. A thought occurred to him then. He leaned out the door and shouted at Riza, who was nearing the end of the hallway.

"Don't forget the frosting!" Riza turned back, dug something out of her bag, and threw it at him. In his surprise, Roy barely managed to catch it.

"Now it's your problem!" She yelled back.

Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all.

**Well, that was short. Hm. Review still!**


	10. What are you looking at? 136

**Ugh, trying to get used to the new laptop and what better way to do that than to type up a little drabble? This one is tiny, and it goes out to Conifer- she was sick today, poor thing. **

**No, I don't own FMA. It's sad, really. And don't yell at me for my inevitable typos- you have no idea how long this took me to type this little AN. It was about 5 minutes. **

2pm in the office of Colonel Roy Mustang was a time reserved for after lunch naps and- occasionally- paperwork. As Riza got up to prod Lieutenant Havoc awake, she felt a pair of eyes following her. She dumped the fresh stack of paperwork onto his desk. Havoc groaned and Riza returned to her desk, her own paperwork nearly finished. She looked up momentarily, locking eyes with Roy.

"What are you looking at, sir?" She asked softly, obviously rousing him from his half asleep state. She expected the casual blush, or a stammered excuse. Riza was not expecting his response- it shocked her.

"Why lieutenant, I'm looking at the most perfect woman in the world. She's beautiful, smart, funny, and she always watches my back. Her name's Riza Hawkeye." Riza blushed. Roy was either half asleey still, or he was drunk. Considering the fact that the mess hall did not serve achohol, Riza expected the former.

"That's very nice, sir. But you still have to do your paperwork."

"Not even a kiss?"

"Maybe later, sir." She winked.

**Geez, that took a while. I swear I misspelled every word. Review!**

**I think I'll rename this drabble set "Maybe Later, Sir."**

**Tenth chap? Really?**


	11. Introductions over bread dough

**And a Royai! I'm getting good at this! :D I have a little one shot planned- "The Five Steps to Berthold Hawkeye's Insanity" it makes me sad… then I have another Royai, and a few Lingfan, and an AlMei (Geez, Almei is HAAAARD to write.) and some more Royai. And some High School. They all need to be typed, and it's annoying me. **

**Abbotsford this Saturday! YAY! 9 days until the jump rope workshop, 16 until Seattle's Macy's parade that I get to jump innnn (I should really practice…) **

**So I'm a bit hyper. **

"I don't think I ever introduced myself. I'm Roy." The petite blonde 11 year old didn't even look up from the bread dough she was kneading. Roy stood there awkwardly for a second, unsure of what to do. She was either deaf and blind or she was ignoring him.

"Why should I care?" Roy jumped a bit, surprised at the sudden, crisp, obviously annoyed tone.

"Well, I'm your father's new apprentice. I don't want to impose on you." She looked up at him briefly.

"Mr. Mustang, do you know how many apprentices my father has had in the past year?" Riza pounded the dough harder, the only giveaway of her frustration. "Thirteen, including you." She turned to him, abandoning the dough. "Why should you be any different than any of those other idiots?"

"Well, I, ah…" He stammered. She continued on, ignoring his stuttering protests.

"My father promised to my mother that he'd put family first and would never take on more than one apprentice. That promise has been broken twelve times. Why should you, the thirteenth, be any different than the rest? Why should I care? You won't be around for any longer than a few weeks, so why should I even bother to learn your name?" Riza turned back to the bread dough, viciously beating the dough long past its prime. Roy stood there in shock for a bit.

"I'm sorry about your mom, and your promise. It must really suck to see that happening. I feel bad being part of this. Maybe I'll just leave, then your dad can stop breaking his promises." There was another long, painful silence. Riza was good at hiding her sobs, but the tears that fell onto the deflated bread dough were a dead giveaway. When she spoke, her voice was steady.

"Thank you, Mr. Mustang."

"Call me Roy, please."

"One step at a time, Mr. Mustang. You're lucky I don't hate your guts- count your blessings." Her face, yet again, betrayed no emotion, but there was a playful twinkle in her eyes.

"Thank you, Miss Hawkeye."

"It's Riza."

"Now, that doesn't seem fair. You can call me Mr. Mustang, but I can call you Riza?" He pouted. The corners of her mouth tweaked up into a hint of a smile.

"Oh, fine then, Roy. Happy?" He grinned. Maybe his time here wouldn't be so bad.


	12. Second Lieutenant Tamara Tanner, Sir!

**Good day to you, fair fanfiction readers and otakus! I give you…TAMARA TANNER. OCs are very difficult in FMA, you see, and I hope that Tamara meets your expectations. Poor sunarose couldn't update today. Or yesterday. Or whenever I get around to finishing this. As I type this AN, it's 8:51pm on Tuesday. In November. Of 2010. **

**3 days!**

"Permission to speak freely, sir." Roy looked up at the young lieutenant standing at him desk. Tamara Tanner, that was her name. She worked in Grumman's office, and subsequently had to deliver paperwork every once in a while.

"Permission granted." He said gruffly, looking back at his paperwork in dismay. Because of his paperwork, he didn't see the lieutentant's head look back towards the outer office, her brown hair swishing around her face. It was cut in the style many young women in Central wore- in a slant, her ride side grazing her chin and the left brushing her shoulder. It was an odd style, one he was glad Riza had ignored. Tamara pulled it off better than some people, though.

She glanced back towards the main office, chewing her lip. Roy didn't see the nerves in the young lieutenant's face: for once he was completely engrossed in his paperwork.

"Sir, why haven't you asked Hawkeye out on a date yet?" Roy looked up. He must be hearing things. Tanner did not- could not- possibly have asked about Riza.

"What?"

"Hawkeye, sir. Your aide." He choked on the air he had been sucking in to steady himself.

"Sir? Are you alright?" Roy managed a deep, non-choking breath and nodded.

"Ah, yes Tanner. You see, there are rules against that sort of thing. Have you read them?" Tamara smirked.

"Nah, not really. I figure it out as I go along. Besides, considering two Fuhers have signed the petition, I don't think that's an issue." He could hear the mocking laugh in her voice, and viciously snapped his- mercifully bare- fingers under his desk. No respect. Never one ounce of respect.

"Petition?"

"Yessir!" Tamara reached into her jacket and pulled out a thick stack of paper. Roy watched as if folded out… and out… and out… and out. Soon there was a small puddle of white paper at her feet. It was covered in signatures- big, small, loopy, simple, they were all there.

"Here it is, sir. Signature #436 with a small side note: 'I want to see my granddaughter married soon, Mustang.' Huh. Crazy old man. What does his granddaughter have to do with this?" She kept muttering, but Roy gulped. It all made sense now. Grumman's insistence on marrying his granddaughter. He choked again.

"Are you sure you're alright?" The young lieutenant asked, obviously concerned. This was, after all, the second time he had choked in five minutes. No, less than that. Two, maybe three.

"Honestly lieutenant, I'm not so sure." He managed.

"Alright then, sir. I'll be going then." Tamara turned to leave as a thought occurred to Roy's swamped mind.

"Lieutenant Tanner, what field do you specialize in?" She looked over his shoulder and gave him a dangerous grin.

"Xingese martial arts, sir."

"Alright then, lieutenant. You are dismissed." Roy didn't exhale until she was out of the office for fear of choking yet again. So his choice was being shot to death or being pummeled to death. Roy glanced at the petition. 498 signatures. He whistled through his teeth, looking at the names. Some he recognized- Ed, Al, Hughes, Scar, (Roy wasn't quite sure how they had gotten Scar to sign) Christmas- some were completely foreign. Honestly, who had a name like Firestar or Foaly? Were these people made up?

"Sir, are you alright?" He jerked his head up. Riza stood over him, looking stern and worried at the same time. How she managed that he would never know.

"Yes Riza, I'm fine." She smiled.

"No, you're not. Why don't you go to the nap room and lie down for a bit, sir?" He sighed and nodded.

"Are you sure, Riza?"

"Sir, you're calling me Riza in the office. You're obviously not well."

"If second lieutenant Tanner comes in…"

"I'll stall her. Don't worry." They smiled at each other and he headed off down the hall.

BREAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK

A nice nap can do wonders. Unfortunately for Roy, this was not the case with him. Actually, Roy was fairly certain he was hallucinating. The line under #498, (a person named Seamus Finnagin) a position that he could've sworn was empty before he left, was now signed in the all too familiar script of one Riza Hawkeye. He rubbed his eyes. Nope, it was still there. Roy's face split into a huge, childish grin and he scribbled his name underneath hers. 500 people was enough for him to muster up the courage to ask Riza out on a date. Particularly #499.

**810 words, not counting this AN. It's Thursday at 8:26. AND IT MIGHT SNOW TOMORROW! EEEEEE! **

**Friday's gonna be aaaaaawesome! **

**Might not update HS until like Wednesday- won't have much time this weekend for anything more than scribbling out a drabble in my notebook. **

**Conifer (the lovely girl) is writing the petition (review and say if you want on, and by what name) and YES, there is a LOT of dimension hopping in it. Be nice. Everyone wants Roy and Riza together. Including my band director and my mom (I know, weird). And I have no clue how warrior cats hold a pen, so don't ask. **

**I want constructive criticism. Please. I'm on my hands and knees BEGGING you. PLEASE. **


	13. Tears

**YAY FOR SNOW DAYS!  
Though I couldn't go to Sunaroses house today because of it…**

**Yea, I'm sad. We were going to discuss top secret info about Seven Months… *goes off to sob in the corner***

**So I wrote a drabble. Honestly, I'm not sure if this is going to end badly or happily. Roy might die. I'm not sure yet. I think I'll leave it open, though. Because he can't die and let Riza die.**

"Curiousity kills the cat, Mustang. Well, I suppose dog is more appropriate in this case. When are you going to learn?" Roy closed his eyes, trying to shut away the cruel voices. They were right, though. Curiosity about the old, abandoned house had led to this- to his death. If it had just been his death, he would have been willing to die, but it wasn't just his death.

It was Riza's too. His curiosity had killed her. She had followed him into this place, never to come out. Riza would be alive and safe if he hadn't insisted on checking it out. If she hadn't been so stubborn, and loyal, and brave, Riza would be safe. She wouldn't be lying somewhere, dead or dying, and she wouldn't even blame him for it. No, she would blame herself when it was all his fault, because that was what Riza did.

He heard his captors chuckle and squeezed his eyes together tighter. Roy would have kept them open wide, staring death in the face, challenging it, but the only person he had to live for was already dead, and Roy wanted her face, her eyes, her smile to be the last thing he saw. He would follow her, for once.

"I'm sorry, Riza…So sorry." He murmured.

"What are you doing, dog? Apologizing to your girlfriend? I suppose we should give you time for that."

"Then again, you're a dog. Why should we grant any of your wishes?"

"Just kill me." He said. "Just kill me."

"With pleasure." He braced himself for the icy blackness of death. _Riza…I'm coming. Yell at me all you want, but you can't stop me. _

Gunshots echoed through the air, but he didn't hurt any more than he already did. Besides, if he was dead, the pain would be gone.

He felt warmth on his chest and a delicate hand swipe his hair out of his face. He dared to crack an eye open. After blinking the blood out, all he saw was a blonde woman sobbing with her head on his chest.

Riza.

He would have moved, but he couldn't. He would have spoken, but he couldn't even breathe. All he could do was lay there, his eyes locked on the woman dripping blood and tears onto his uniform.

"Roy… Roy… I'm sorry. Please, please…All…All my fault…" She choked through sobs.

"Riza." The simple word took years to say, and it came out gravelly and broken. Riza's head stayed down. "Riza…" He uttered again. His tounge was heavy, hard to use, impossible to use. She looked around before settling her eyes on his.

"Roy." They joy in her voice was unmistakable. She broke down in another round of sobs. Slowly he reached a shaking hand up to cradle her cheek.

"What did they do to you?" She ignored his question, savoring his warm hand on her bloodstained cheek, the tears flowing freely from her ochre eyes. She chose instead to pull him close and sob into his shoulder.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, hugging her tight and whispering comforting words into her hair. It was hard, though, because he was crying as hard as she was.

**Hm. So he didn't die. You lucky ducks. **

**Review! FLAME ME! IT'LL BE WARMER THAN IT IS HERE! 14 degrees last night. Brrrrrrrrrrrr. **

**But seriously, review. Happy thanksgiving!**


	14. May I take your order, sir?

**I am on a roll! WHOOT.**

**And the return of Tamara! **

"Good evening! My name is Tamara, and I'll be your server for this evening! May I interest you in our special for the night, or some beverages?" Roy and Riza looked at each other, and then turned their horrified gaze up at the waitress.

"Tanner?" The waitress tore her gaze away from the notepad and looked at the duo sitting at the table.

"Oh." She said, her jaw dropping. There was a stunned silence that lasted a few seconds, and then Tamara let out a whoop of joy that startled the entire restaurant. "So you're together? It WORKED? YES! IT WORKED!" Tamara began doing a little dance, much to the amusement and horror of onlookers.

"Why are you here, Second Lieutenant?" Riza asked, ever the calm one. Tamara stopped her dance and fixed her bangs.

"My brother's the owner. I help out on weekends because I have no life." She said nonchalantly and shrugged. Roy whimpered and looked at Riza hopelessly. Of all the restaurants in East City, he had to choose the one that that second lieutenant recommended.

"_I hear the food is wonderful, sir." _She had said with a wink. Roy should have known that she had something up her sleeve. He cursed his stupidity.

"That's nice, Lieutenant. What do you recommend?" Riza asked, smiling genuinely.

"I recommend keeping him in the palm of your hand…" Roy scowled as Tamara jabbed her pen in is direction, "…and I believe the '10 house merlot goes very well with steak. If you prefer fish, a Franconian Sancerre would pair nicely." Tamara said with the ease of a practiced professional, smiling. Riza chuckled as she watched Roy sink further down in his seat.

"I'd say water, and then a glass of the house merlot with dinner, lieutenant." Tamara jotted it down and turned to Roy.

"And you, _sir_?" She said in a sickly sweet, innocent voice, as if none of this was her fault when it was damn obvious that it was 100% her fault. He studied the menu briefly.

"I'll have the same, I suppose." Tamara's face split into a huge, toothy grin. Riza stifled her laughter as Roy glowered at the young woman.

"I'll be right back with your water, _sir. _Funny, I thought you hated water." Riza gave up trying to contain her fits of giggles.

"Very funny, Tanner. Would you like to be fried?"

"No, sir. Would you like me to report you for breaking the frat laws?"

"You wouldn't." He growled.

"Nope, actually. I wouldn't dare. Besides, it wouldn't work, anyway. Grumman signed the abolishment of frat laws yesterday morning. I think Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh are actually a few tables over." How was it that this Tamara Tanner could be so cheeky? Roy snapped is ungloved fingers beneath the table. To a superior officer! No, two! She was being this cheeky in front of TWO superiors! What nerve!

"Well, I'll go get that water. I'll be back in a few. Any appetizers this evening? No, wait, I'll bring you one. On the house." She winked and practically skipped away.

"You know, she reminds me a bit of Rebecca." Riza noted.

"Don't compare that harpy and that… other harpy with each other, Riza." Roy glowered. Riza chuckled.

"Sir…" She began.

"Roy." He corrected. Riza sighed.

"Roy, don't insult my friends."

"I'm just saying!"

"Roy."

"Well, I mean…"

"Roy." Her tone was serious, but she was smiling.

"They are sort of similar, I guess. I think Tanner is worse, though."

"I HEARD THAT!" Roy and Riza jumped and swiveled their heads towards the direction of the holler. Tamara was serving an elderly couple with a smile. If Roy hadn't heard her voice barely a second ago, (and if he didn't suspect Tamara for everything now) he would've never guessed that such a sweet face had been yelling at them.

"She got you, sir."

"Roy."

"Old habits die hard."

"Well, unless you never call anyone sir again, I'm going to throw a fit every time I hear the word 'sir'." Roy said stubbornly. Riza opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Tanner sweeping in with an appetizer.

"Soup, anyone?" She asked, every inch of her radiating a gracious, charming hostess.

"Ah, thank you Tanner." Roy said as he peered warily at the soup.

"Oh, _honestly._ I didn't poison it, or spit in it, or anything, Colonel. I'm not that low. Besides, that would ruin my brother's business, and I _don't want that to happen."_ Tamara wiped her hands on her apron and pulled her pen from behind her ear. "And what will the lovely couple have for dinner?" Riza glanced at her menu before answering.

"T-bone, if you will, Tanner. Medium rare."

"Got it. And you, _sir?_" Roy handed his menu to Tamara.

"The same."

"Again? Iiinteresting…" She mused, taking the menu and sauntering off.

"How much do you want to bet that our date will be in the newspaper tomorrow?" Riza asked, taking a sip of the creamy soup.

"Well, she's a lieutenant and a waitress. Who says she isn't a newspaper reporter too?" He said, chuckling. Riza grinned.

….

The rest of the dinner past without much incident. Tamara was bouncy and hyper, but all in all, she was a very good person, and a kind soul.

Around the time Roy and Riza were finishing, a man in his late twenties walked over to their table, guiding a very sheepish looking Tamara.

"Ah, I am deeply sorry about my sister. She's a bit loopy."

"Eric! I'm not...well, maybe a bit." But seriously!" Tamara protested. "Don't mind my uptight big brother." She said to Roy and Riza with a smirk.

"Tama! You were constantly harassing them!"

"I beg to differ! You asked for help tonight, Eric!"

"Not help like _you_!"

"Are you trying to imply something here, Eric?" It seemed, Roy noted, that Tamara had a gift for annoying people out of their minds. Eric seemed about ready to bash his head against something, and Tamara was cool and composed with a smirk on her face.

"She wasn't harassing us, Mr. Tanner. Tamara is a lovely girl." Riza said sweetly, taking a sip of her wine. Eric, realizing he was beat, sighed.

"You're crazy if you think my sister is anything but crazy." He muttered. Tamara frowned and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Eric, this is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye and Colonel Roy Mustang." Eric's eyes grew wide.

"I'm just…I'll go back to the kitchen now." He said sheepishly. "Go ahead and charge the whole meal on the house, Tama. It's the least I can do for the people who saved Amestris." Tamara nodded.

"That's Eric for you." Tamara said, pocketing the bill. "Have a nice night, sirs. Don't do anything I wouldn't." Roy and Riza looked at each other skeptically.

"Good night, Tanner. Are you headed back to Central in the morning?" Riza asked, sliding her arms into her coat.

"Nope. I'm here until Wednesday or until you sign those forms."

"Then we'll see you Monday."

"Yes, sir!" Tamara gave a mock salute. Roy smiled as Riza began to walk out.

"Tanner."

"Yessir?" She looked nervous. Roy smiled at her.

"Thank you." Tamara smiled gratefully.

"Anytime, sir." Tamara watched Roy catch up with Riza and slide an arm around her slim waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Another job well done.

**Reviewwwww! It make me happy. :D **

**So do you like Tamara? Tell me honestly. **


	15. Perfection

**8:32am on Sat, and I'm already typing. I like typing in the car already. I don't feel carsick! **

…**Yet. I'm sure it'll come. *crosses fingers* Set just post manga. You'll figure it out. **

No one had expected him to be gone this long. The guesses had ranged from a minute to a day, but no one had considered four days. Four days was the longest that Riza hadn't seen him since Ishval. Odd how she had come to rely on him when she was supposed to be the bodyguard. Just knowing he was nearby had saved her sanity the entire time the served as Bradley's aide, and his reassuring presence had gotten Riza through Ishval. Riza relied on him, and without him she was a lost dog without an owner.

The others weren't saying it, but Riza could tell that they were scared that he wasn't coming back. The suspicion would grow with time, and slowly they would all give up. Eventually only she would be left keeping a silent vigil next to the transmutation circle that had stolen him away from this world. No matter how much doubt she had about him coming back, she would wait for him, because Riza had nothing without him.

"Lieutenant, you should go home and get some rest." Fuery said, patting Riza on the shoulder. She looked up at the young man standing timidly over her and then back down to the transmutation circle.

"He'll be back any minute, I'm sure. I'm fine, Fuery." It would take more than a gentle suggestion for Riza to leave this place.

"Lieutenant, I really wish I was your superior right now, because then I would order you to go home. Please, Hawkeye. You need to go home. He wouldn't want you to sit here and mope." Fuery said. "The Colonel wants you to be safe, and he's ordered the rest of us to make sure you are until he gets back. And I think that you spending all your time around a scribble of chalk is not safe, so you're going home." Riza didn't move from the floor. Fuery grumbled for a minute, then grabbed her arm and began to drag her out of the warehouse.

"Sergant Major, I order you to let go!" She barked, attempting to shake herself out of an iron grip that she didn't know Fuery possessed.

"I'm disobeying that order in the favor of an order by a higher up, lieutenant, and you're going _home._" Fuery knew that Riza wasn't going to stay away for long- even he knew that Riza could not live without the Colonel. It had been a long time since they had been separated like this. _We'll be back soon, Colonel. Come back soon._

~*~BREAK~*~

"Roy Mustang. Come for your sight, I presume?" Never had his blindness seemed to restrict Roy more. The air seemed dark and heavy, and the voice had no origin. It bounced and echoed from every direction, making Roy dizzy. He opened his palm, displaying the red shard that was so precious to the Truth. The Philosopher's stone was lifted out of his hand by the silent ghost of a breath of wind.

"Very good, Roy Mustang. Sacrificing more innocent Ishvalans for your wellbeing. Are you truly a demon without a soul?" Roy felt a lump form in his throat.

"It's for the good of Ishval. The leaders gave me permission." This time it was a chuckle that assaulted his ears.

"I'll give you your sight, Mustang. I can't turn down equivalent exchange. But before I do, answer two questions for me." Roy nodded and waited for the echoing voice to continue. "One: Why did I take your sight? Two: You must tell me what is important for you to see."

"You took away my sight because I saw the truth.

"Wrong." The single word shocked Roy. "I could have taken many things- arms, legs, insides, whole bodies, hearts, brains… Anything in your body I could have taken as a toll. Why did I take your eyes? The second question is the answer to the first, Roy Mustang. Think more like a philosopher, and less like a soldier." Roy took Truth's words and began to process them in his brain. What did he have to see?

~*~BREAK~*~

It had taken two hours to overpower Fuery and get him to take her back. If Riza had been more stable, she would have been embarrassed by her tears and hysterical screaming. As it was, she hardly noticed it. The tears from the ever composed lieutenant had scared Fuery into submission, and that was all Riza cared about.

It was cold in the warehouse now- Riza didn't notice. She sat on the chilled concrete in her rumpled uniform (far past the crisp, clean, pressed version required, but no one was going to mention that to her) lost in thoughts of nothing, waiting blindly for a man that could never arrive. The lines for the carefully drawn transmutation circle began to distort and sway. The world itself became fuzzy and Riza gave in to the darkness of a deep, dreamless sleep.

~*~BREAK~*~

Every memory in Roy's life flashed through his mind. Sorting through them as he was, Roy was surprised that so many of them were of her. Her laugh, her smile, her eyes, as a child, during Ishval, on the promised day (The presidential candidate slicing the delicate skin of her neck open, the look in her eyes, his blind panic, her blood- so much blood, as if she was dying… Mei saving her, stopping the blood, keeping it in her, stopping her death, her golden hair soaked with crimson, but her eyes so alert and happy and kind and _loving…_)

Loving? _He was in love with her._

"I'm in love with her." He said to himself, confirming his thoughts and beliefs, knowing that they were the truth, the total, complete truth.

"The blind alchemist sees the truth now, does he? I took what was important to you- I always do. Since I could not take her, I took what shows her to you. You understand now, correct, alchemist?" Roy nodded. Truth could see so far- more that he himself had known. How was that?

"When you reach the other side, you'll be able to see. Good luck, alchemist, and remember: I'll be watching." The chuckle resounded again, and shadowy ghosts of hands pulled him until he felt cold, hard ground. Warily he opened his eyes, half expecting the blackness that had plagued him since the shadows had snatched him the first time. The room was dark, that was certain, but it was not black.

The first thing he saw was her, curled up on the ground, blonde hair fanned around her. Her uniform was wrinkled, worn, (it couldn't be her own- she would never let her own uniform descend to that level.) but there was a half peaceful, half tormented look on her face. Roy made his way over to her, sitting beside his sleeping lieutenant and cradling her head in his hands. He brushed the stray golden hairs out of her face with a tender stroke. What had he ever done to deserve her loyalty? She was too perfect- there was no way he _couldn't _have fallen in love with her.

"Roy…" She murmured in her sleep. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Maybe Truth wasn't such a bad guy after all.

~*~BREAK~*~

He sat there for a while, relishing being able to see her. It was an odd expression that she had on her face as she slept. It went from calm and peaceful to tortured in an instant, then back again just when Roy was sure his heart would burst from seeing her in pain. She stirred, and the amber eyes fluttered open

"It's good to see you again, lieutenant." He said, running his fingers through her long blonde hair. She smiled sleepily.

"You had us worried there, sir." She murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek with a delicate hand. His brow furrowed.

"How long was I gone?" It hadn't felt like more than a few hours to him, though when he was blind, time was virtually nonexistent to him.

"Five days, sir. It's 2am, I think."

"Were you here that whole time, lieutenant?" He already knew the answer. If he had been gone for five days, she hadn't gone home. _Didn't she know that he didn't want her to be anything but safe? _

"Almost, sir. Fuery's been forcing me home every day when he comes." _Good Fuery. He'd have to see about getting him a raise._ He sighed through a smile.

"I don't deserve you." He didn't. What right did a man like him have to be in love with this perfect woman? Why hadn't she let go of his flawed self long ago, severed her ties with his delusional dreams and gotten on with her life?

"I feel the same way about you, sir." No, she was wrong. How could she possibly think that her perfect self was unworthy of him?

"No, lieutenant, I don't think you're right. You're too perfect." She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in to give him a kiss.

"Thank you." She whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm nothing without you, Riza." Roy watched as she drifted back off into sleep. The torment in her face was gone at long last.

**Review please. **

…**My rough drafts suck. That thing took me two hours to type because my rough draft was so crappy. **

**Original ending:**

"**I don't deserve you." **

"**That's how I feel about you, sir."**

"**That I don't deserve you?" **

"**That **_**I **_**don't deserve **_**you.**_**"**

"**Well then, lieutenant, let's not deserve each other together." **

***facepalm* It's cute, but it doesn't belong here. No carsickness!**


	16. Innocence

**Nawww, it's Royai if you squint!**

They had been innocent once.

True, it had been years-decades, even, had passed since they had laughed at simple nothings and passed the days rolling down tiny hills and proclaiming them mountains. The world had been kind to them then, before he had discovered alchemy books on her father's bookshelf and brushed the dust off of them fascinated. Before he had begun to sit inside, his eyes wide with an alchemist's curiosity and his fist clenched around a fragment of chalk. Even after that, they had still been friends, but she missed the days of treasure hunting and mountain climbing that had dominated the first years of her life.

They used to wrestle, tumbling down their "mountains" with grass and dirt in their hair, unsure of whether or not to surrender and let the victor dance around them in triumph. One of them always retreated, breathing hard but claiming that they were still superior to the other, even if they had "chosen" to end the fight. The victor would still march around the loser in triumph. At the beginning, he had actually let her win after it became apparent after a few days that despite the boyish haircut and the mud that splattered her face, she was, in fact, a girl that wore pinafores and ankle socks like any good little girl did in those days. (back when they were innocent and she knew nothing but starched pinafore and white ankle socks.)

Soon enough, though, she had learned his tactics and the weak spots in his defenses. She was a clever little girl then, and knew how to use her smaller frame to an advantage that few little girls knew. He may have been stronger, but she was faster and more agile. There were many days when he had to resort to force and take advantage of his superior strength. She couldn't fight if her arms and legs were pinned to the ground, could she? Because of this, they were evenly matched, and the victor would change nearly every day.

The loser would sit in annoyance until they were called in for supper and all rivalry was forgotten over the feasts that their mothers would cook up. She would always give him her carrots, and in return she would receive the rutabagas that he scrunched his nose up at so vehemently. Their mothers never mentioned when they would discreetly (or so they thought) switch plates, and their mothers would never comment on the exchange of vegetables. She would eat her potatoes in the exact fashion that he did, first poking a finger into them and then picking up her fork to devour what hadn't reached her finger. Their fathers would never scold them for playing with their food, because each father loved their child so much as to never wish to make them angry.

It was one of their rituals to split their cookies in half and exchange one of them for the other's. Their parents saw no justification in this strange act, but in their minds it was justified-this way they were sure it was always equal. It was their innocence that truly made it right, though. Two halves for each of them. _Well, _their mothers had always said, _at least they're sharing. Better a few lost crumbs than a lost friendship. _Because then, to them, greed had never been an issue. They were so close it was almost like they were one person, despite her blonde hair and amber eyes and his charcoal black hair and deep, soulful onyx eyes. If their mothers had not had that hint, it would have been quite possible to take the wrong child home. They had no brothers or sisters, a fact that their parents had silently agreed upon early into their friendship. What he and she had was a deep bond that many people didn't develop until their adulthood, not their very early childhood.

The world had been simple then, a bright, sunny place perfect to explore.

And explore they had. His curious naivety (the curiosity that had later led her father to leave out his alchemy books in hopes of him picking one up) paired perfectly with her more conservative nature, and days-weeks, months and years by her mother's estimate-had been spent in the woods that connected their homes, renaming the creeks and islands every day, as they saw only fitting. After all, it would be mean of him to always keep the biggest creek named after him. She deserved it just as much as he did, even though she would shriek in terror when they stumbled across any reptiles. He was always a baby about getting his feet wet anyway. Even then they relied on one another- he would always wade into the creek if she asked, and she would silence her shrieks by burying her face in his arm. They were stronger around each other.

_Ironic_, it was, as she thought back later, shooting round after round at the cardboard cutout and achieving perfection with every shot, _to think that what they had aspired for so desperately as innocent children was their downfall as they grew older and were forced into strength when weakness could have saved their lives._

She had lived in bliss until she was eight years old. He was ten, and his parents had died. He had unsuccessfully attempted to explain death to her, but she had waved it off, proclaiming that it was _sill, grown up _way of looking at it, and there was no _way _they were never coming back because they loved them _so much _that they would come back, even if his aunt said otherwise. She didn't believe it as desperately as he did. She had faith in his parents, but he watched the twin slabs of stone that never offered him a word of comfort and needed an answer. He had doubted her for the very first time in the days following his parents' deaths. He would sit in the cemetery, watching the graves for hours, and she would join him, crouching down and watching as well, never giving him a word of sympathy or a reassuring smile. (Even then, words were not necessary to them. It was a learned gift they had, one they learned quickly and easily.)

He had left then, and the cozy house that was only a few steps away from her own run-down manor was suddenly a hostile place, filled with a family that was not his. She had tried to be optimistic at first, though still harboring the overwhelming grief of losing half of her family in one fell swoop. As time passed, she lost that optimism as it dawned on her that the family was not a kind one. When she had shown up at their back doorstep as she always had when he lived there, she was greeted with a cruel stare, an interrogation and finally a demand to _go away._

Never, not even on their worst day, had his family _ever _told her to _go away._ Even if he couldn't play, (a rare occasion, considering that he had once attempted to leave his bed with a fever to go explore with her) his mother would give her pastries from a distant land that she knew nothing about and his father would scoop her up and tickle her face with two day old stubble. She was family-that was how it had been.

Now that was little more than a memory to her. He had been whisked off to a strange, unfamiliar place and his mother and father (whom she had proudly labeled as "Auntie" and "Uncle") lay six feet underground, forever gone from the world. The next six years of her life consisted of a lonely sort of happiness-she had her mother, and her father, (most days, unless he retreated to his study) but she did not have _him_ and the ghostly memories of her innocence were enough to make her wonder what her life would be like if _he _were still in it. It was a naive dream, one that she never told anyone else about, lest it be scorned and shot down by cruel adults who had long forgotten their own innocent childhood dreams.

He had come back, too. But when he finally did return, her father kept him to himself, muttering about complicated circles and chemicals. She was no longer "Riri" and he was no longer "Ro", a fact that had been firmly established by her father on the first day of his return. He was "Mr. Mustang", and she was "Miss Hawkeye" or "Miss Riza". Her mother was no longer "Aunt" as she had been before- now she was "Mrs. Hawkeye" and her father, who had been "Uncle", was now "Teacher". The names, the formality, that was what had kept her from realizing that the boy from her innocent dreams slept in the bedroom next to her, ate in the chair across from her, and lived a life so separate yet similar to her own.

The only thing that had made her certain that this was still her "Ro" was an instance shortly after his arrival as he was chopping firewood. Thanks to his own clumsiness, he dropped the hatchet on his foot and had howled for "Riri" so loudly that she was sure his dead parents could hear him. There was no doubt in her mind after that that it was _him_.

Whether it had been the dark glare he had received from her father, the pitying stare he received from her mother or the look of utter shock on her face as she dropped the egg she had been clutching that that minute, she did not know. What she did know was that he never called her "Riri" again. He didn't call her by her first name until her mother died a year later and he left to join the military a year after that. It was like a condolence, the use of her first name as she cried. He didn't need empty words like "I'm sorry" or "It's alright" because he had her name, and that was more precious and sacred than any other word he could utter.

Their innocence had been wrenched away from them. The eager naivety in their eyes extinguished before it could change the world. It would have been cruel to blame a person or an event that stole it from them, and it was cruel to try to place the haunted eyes they possessed on anything human. They blame death instead.

Now she watches his back, desperately wishing for the ignorance and weakness but unable to bring herself to feign it. Perhaps if she had not followed him twenty-seven years ago she would not be here now, and her wishes for innocence could be a reality. It is said by many people that she is all that keeps him sane. That may be true to him-she will not, cannot, does not pry into his mind deep enough to find out-but the opposite is certainly true for her. He is all that keeps her sane, and her only hope as she remembers the naivety and happiness she once enjoyed.

They were a pair then and even now. There is _him _and there is _her_, and nothing can change that, not even the concept of death that they now fully understand. It is the way things have always been, and the way things will always be. It is, in a way, the last shard of their long shattered innocence.

**Well, that was very… whoa. Just playing with ideas.**


	17. Queen

"_Lieutenant Hawkeye, would you care to join me for a game of chess?"_

She had become wary at that moment, glancing with a single raised eyebrow at the towering stacks of paperwork that still littered his desk. He pouts and picks up his pen, dejected before she replies.

"I suppose. None of that's due until Thursday, and it is rather late, sir."

"Well, Lieutenant, it's settled then. Would you like to be white?" he asks casually, opening one of his drawers and pulling out his chess set that resided there.

She shrugs, straightening a stack of papers and brushing a stray hair out of her eyes. "I don't really care, sir."

His eyes softened as he glanced at the jumbled black and white pieces that now lay on his desk. "We're off duty," he mumbles.

She finishes with her papers and walks over to Roy, her black boots making soft clicking noises against the pristine tile. "I'm sorry, Roy. It's habit."

"A very bad one at that, Riza."

He finishes setting up the board, staring intently at the thirty two black and white scraps of wood. A tiny gust of wind courtesy of an open window ruffles their hair, causing Roy's hand to fly to his scalp. Riza sighs and fixes his hair with a gentle, delicate touch. "It's interesting, Riza," he mutters, gliding his hand over the chess board distractedly, "Everyone on my team is a different piece in chess."

"Really, Roy?" Riza asks him, lowering her gaze to stare at the carved wood herself.

He nods, picking up a pawn. "Fuery's the pawn. Constantly underestimated."

She nods and Roy continues, replacing the pawn with the rook. "Breda is the rook. Straightforward but powerful," he plucks the knight up from its square. "Then there's Havoc, the knight. You never quite know what he's thinking."

"The bishop?" she questions, handing him the next piece as the knight was set down.

"Falman, of course. You forget about him, but he's important and he's always there, waiting." His hand shakes as he picks up the final piece. She notices the tiny tremors in his fingers and reaches her own hand to rest on his. Roy smiles and slips the queen into her hand.

It was heavier than she expects it to be thanks to a golden band near the base of the chess piece.

"You are my queen," he says softly as she drops it in shock. Shaking, Riza bends down to pick it up and slide the ring onto her finger. "You are, and always will be, my queen."

She captures his lips in a kiss, and his arms snake around her waist, pulling her down closer.

"Yes, Roy," Riza draws back from him, resting her head on his shoulder. "…and you are my king."

The words _I love you _hang unspoken in the air.

Then again, they did not need to be said.

**So that was fluffay. Whee, fluff. **

**So I'm going to change the summary of A Very Long Distance Phone Call a whole lot, but not the title, so keep that in mind. **


	18. Dance

**So hi again, I'm working on a chapter of High School, 1000 words and very VERY fluffy. So yea. **

**Have this filler drabble to entertain yourself!**

Both of them had always hated dancing.

The steps, the rhythms, the need to be in a certain place at a certain time… It was too complicated for them to even hope of doing right. It was fine for them to watch – so long as it was short and the music didn't put them to sleep when it started – but they avoided doing it themselves.

It was ironic that their lives were full of dances. They danced carefully, planning their steps in order to gain the leadership of the country. They danced on the battlefield, swiftly and gracefully, sadly carrying out the orders of the higher-ups and attempting not to miss a beat. There would be days that they stumbled and the dance would falter, but it never stopped. They never fell.

At least, they didn't think they fell. Many times, they did the wrong steps and jeopardized their entire performance, but that was not falling. It was wrong, it was clumsy, it was foolish, but they were alive. That was what mattered to them – the dance could continue. It was always the dance.

They danced slowly, sadly, through deaths of comrades and friends. It was a dance they knew all too well, remorse and fear in their hearts. Another one they could not save. An omen, deep and dark. A warning – one of them could be next. Their dance would cease. It was too much to fear, that finale of their life-long planning.

Perhaps the most complicated and pointless dance was the one they used with one another. When asked, there was always an excuse, but all familiar with the technique saw the intricate dance they used, avoiding each other yet somehow being too close for the comfort of two normal "friends". They danced around each other, hoping to conceal feelings that were all too obvious. It was a slow waltz one day, and the next it would be a fiery tango as their feelings pressed up against their hearts.

They had never liked dancing.

It was too bad they did so much.


	19. Three Months

**Well, this one switches POV way too much, but it's added effect. Cool. **

**11:30 here. I have school tomorrow. XD Great. (But totally worth it.)**

Looking at her son – _their _son – nearly broke her heart. He was the very image of Roy, from his black hair to his unique personality.

She remembered when he had been born – Roy had been alive then, so long ago.

No, he was still alive. To her, he would never die. Even with their son, Riza wasn't sure if she would ever accept the fact that Roy was dead.

It had been three months. Three months for Roy, Riza, and their son – two months of happiness, two months of bliss. Was his life now the payment for that? Had her life before been payment for that as well? Was the price of happiness truly so great?

On the second day of the fourth month, he had been called to Creta to oversee battle plans and inspire the soldiers.

When he had joined a casual nighttime patrol two weeks later, he hadn't come back.

When their son smiled at her for the first time, she cried.

When he laughed, her heart broke.

When he began to crawl, scooting around their home merrily, her knees had gone weak and Riza had been forced to lean on the wall to steady herself.

It was too much to handle alone. Too much for Riza to take, raising a tiny little Roy without the grown one to lean on.

~*Break*~

No sun, no smiles, no happiness, no laughter, and no hope.

Nothing but a photograph so ripped and dirty he could hardly make out the faces in it.

Not that it really mattered – she haunted his dreams anyway, clutching their son to her chest and calling his name.

The soldiers of Creta were adept at keeping him locked up. His hands were suspended apart, and nothing was available for even a hope of a transmutation circle. The food they gave him barely kept him alive, and it wasn't nearly thick enough to draw any sort of array.

Was this the price of his two months of happiness?

It could hardly be called equivalent exchange.

Roy cursed Truth and the games it played.

~*Break*~

She had never been an alchemist, nor had she ever wanted to be one. But Riza had never been religious, either, so she had a very limited belief in miracles.

This wasn't going to be a miracle, though. He would come back soon – it was only a matter of time.

Their son's first word was "Dada". Rebecca had been over visiting and had witnessed the near emotional breakdown of the strong blonde sniper.

"Ri, it's okay. He's coming back. You know that."

"I know, Rebecca. Waiting is the hard part."

~*Break*~

Roy was not expecting a cell mate. Honestly, Roy wasn't expecting food - so really, another person had been out of the question.

Let alone Edward Elric.

"General Bastard? You can grow facial hair?" Ed asked in astonishment, his eye twitching.

Roy sighed. When he spoke, his voice was creaky, as if he hadn't used it enough. "Yes, Fullmetal. Most men can, though I see you haven't."

Ed scowled. "Hate the stuff."

"So do I."

The lighthearted conversation ended much too quickly, both of them to solemn to say anything so fickle.

"What landed you here?" Mustang managed to ask.

Ed shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. "I made the mistake of trying to explore the world. You?"

"I protected my men."

Ed swore. "This war is pointless. So we were trading with Xing more than Creta. Doesn't give them the right to attack us."

Mustang sighed and attempted to run his fingers through his hair. "Tensions have been tight for a while, Fullmetal. While it's true Amestris attempted to bridge the gap, I suspect we tried a little too late."

The eerie silence that followed unnerved the guards outside. Roy and Ed heard shuffling and quiet attempts of casual conversation. They ultimately failed, leaving the silence back where it was before.

Roy eventually broke the silence again with another question. "How…How's Riza doing?"

Ed collapsed next to Roy on the hard wooden bench. "His first word was 'Dada', you know. Hawkeye was really quiet when she told Winry – too much to bear, I guess."

Roy wasn't sure whether to smile or cry. "Are they doing all right?"

Ed considered a moment before answering. "No, they aren't. She's putting on a brave face for your kid, but who would do all right when faced with that?"

Roy felt tears leak from his eyes. "Damn it."

"Look Mustang, you don't have to get all sentimental on me, but you don't need to hide it either," Ed commented.

Roy shook his head. "It's just…I don't want Riza to end up like Gracia. I don't want her to go through that."

"Well, this war has to end soon, right? There have been some talks about peace."

~*Break*~

"This war has to end." Riza's voice was confident but a little too loud. Grumman glanced at his granddaughter and sighed, moving to ruffle his grandson's hair.

"We've sent our conditions for peace. There's nothing else I can do."

Her face was filled with defeat. "I understand. I just…"

He kissed her forehead. "He's not dead, I know. But Riza, please, don't live just because he's coming back. He'd want you to smile."

~*Break*~

He hadn't smiled in four months.

The guards had been surprised when they threw him in the cell – no arguments, no struggle, no great claims of karma, just an odd, unfocused look.

They expected him to do_ something_, not just sit there like someone had drugged him. For weeks he had said nothing, braving the rain that streamed down his face with silence.

When he had spoken, he had merely said two words – _Sorry, Riza. _Then again he had stopped speaking.

The guards that were posted outside his door were shocked that he had even said a sentence when the midget prisoner was shoved inside.

The Cretan soldiers felt pity for him. He may have been the enemy, but it was surely cruel to separate a man from the only happiness he had ever felt.

They looked at each other and shared thoughts. It _was _cruel. They knew it.

~*Break*~

Ed spoke up late at night on the fourth day of his imprisonment when the soldiers stationed at the door had yet again fallen asleep at their posts.

"Why the hell are you still here, Mustang? A genius like you shouldn't give up. Four months of imprisonment, and the only thing you get is a lousy beard."

"Yes, Fullmetal, I'm sure all that really matters is my terrible facial hair."

Ed scowled. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Fullmetal, I've been here for four months, now. My hands are constantly suspended apart, I'm practically spoonfed, and there is nothing in this cell I could ever even _hope_ to use as an array. I spent the first month here planning my escape – now I'm just trying to stay alive until this goddamned war is over."

"Never pegged you as the type to give up."

"I invite you to brainstorm, but I'm out of options. Fullmetal, I'm not giving up. I have to live – for Riza, for my son, for some of the only true happiness that has ever belonged to me."

There was a crash and Roy could hear Ed swear. The guards in front of the door jerked awake and immediately whirled around to peer into the cell.

"What's going on in there?" one of them demanded. It was hard to take them seriously, considering the voice of the one who spoke was still slurred with drowsiness.

"I'm damned sick of this!" yelled Ed, picking up his former commanding officer. "Who knows when this war is going to end? Why are you just _staying alive _for your family? When did your ego break, you bastard? When did you turn so goddamn serious? Riza is waiting for you, and all you can do is _hope_?"

The door crashed open, the guards bursting into the dim cell. "Edward Elric! Release him!"

Ed did as he was bid, scowling. "And what's your excuse? Why are you fighting this war?"

Their pistols dropped.

"Orders. We don't believe this is a good, just war either. We're ashamed of Creta."

"Then let's get the hell out of here! I have a feeling the General Bastard isn't going to live too much longer if we don't get him back to his family."

~*Break*~

Another month passed, and the foursome slowly worked out a plan of escape. Two weeks after it was perfected, Roy and Ed listened to the clock strike midnight and began to run.

_We're going to be free again._

_Just you Cretan bastards try to stop us. _

~*Break*~

"Hurry up, Mustang!" Ed screamed, glancing back at the Amestrian general. Five and a half months of malnourishment and lack of exercise had taken its toll on the formerly fit man.

"Go on, Fullmetal, I'll catch up, hurry!"

Ed swore and wrapped an arm around Roy's shoulders. "You're paying me back for this, General Bastard," he muttered with false bravado.

In front of them, the two Cretan soldiers that had helped them so much quickly winked out of sight.

Ed quickened his pace. Freedom was so close – minutes away. Minutes.

He could already taste the military rations he used to despise.

~*Break*~

"There are four unidentified figures approaching, sir!"

"Well, who the hell are they?" Havoc grunted and took the binoculars from the private. Raising them to his eyes, Jean took in a sharp breath.

"Is…Is everything all right, Capitan Havoc?" ventured the private, seeing the look on his superior's face.

The binoculars seemed to fall in slow motion. "It's Fullmetal and the chief."

The private's jaw dropped.

Havoc ran fingers through his dirty hair. "Hurry and get them into camp, Private! That's an order – get as many as you need on the mission, I don't care, just _get them into camp."_

~*Break*~

Riza was still unused to Roy's arms wrapped around her as she slept.

The doorbell and frantic pounding at the door at two in the morning was not helping her insomnia.

"RIZAAA! GET THE GODDAMNED DOOR, THIS IS IMPORTANT!"

Sighing and attempting to ignore the pit in her stomach, she opened the door. Rebecca smiled in relief.

"Thank God, Ri." Riza took in her friend's fluffy pink robe and raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting choice, Becca. What is it?"

"I just got a call from Havoc."

Riza could hear the baby crying now – just when she had been sure that the cold he had been suffering from would not disrupt his sleep anymore.

"They found Roy."

Riza's knees went weak.

~*Break*~

It was another week and a half before they saw him. He finally arrived on the medical train, staggering off in between the countless injured.

Riza could hardly contain her tears as she saw him again, gripping Maes tighter and beginning to run towards her husband.

His voice was not louder than a whisper as he embraced his family, but everyone in the station could hear the raw emotion choking it.

"_I love you." _

She set Maes down under the watchful eye of Rebecca and turned to kiss Roy.

Neither of Maes' parents noticed him rise unsteadily to his feet and toddle to greet his father.

His very first steps.

"Dada!" he cried happily.

A ray of sunshine shone down on the small family, but it was raining in their eyes.

They didn't mind. It was the best kind of rain.

**I gave them a son. Personally, I see them with two daughters and a youngest son, but I decided on a son for this one. Sunarose and I have many conversations about the possible children of FMA couples.**

**Oh, speaking of Sunarose, she didn't beta this, but she does beta everything else I do, practically, so yea, be all worshippy of her.**

**Anyone who reviews gets… a… PINK PARASOL. YUS.**


	20. Locket

_**One fifth of the way there! YAY!**_

_If I should be so bold_

_I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand_

_I'd tell you from the start how I've longed to be your man_

_But I never said a word_

_I guess I'm gonna miss my chance again_

Roy pressed a tiny golden pendant into his lieutenant's palm before turning and walking away without a word, not looking back and keeping his face an unreadable mask.

Really, she wasn't _his _lieutenant anymore. Technically, she was Bradley's aide. In reality, she was his captive, being used to control him like a puppet on strings. They had her, he had to obey the twisted, corrupt leadership of the country. If he hadn't been so open about his emotions, maybe this would not have happened. He cursed himself. One wrong move, one toe off the line, and she would be dead. And it would be all his fault. All his fault.

Loved was something neither of them had really ever felt. They both faintly remembered their mother's embrace, and he had been brought up in a way not _devoid _of love, but certainly a very strict sort of love that he hardly ever felt cared for with. She had been ignored by the one person that could have loved her. They were each other's first – and last – love.

Her fist closed around the gift as she slipped it in her pocket before Bradley turned around. Not that pretending really mattered anymore – what would they gain from trying to deny the obvious? She was the captive and it was futile trying to continue an act that had already failed. They had found his weakness – and hers as well.

"A gift from Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant?" Bradley questioned. She stiffened.

"I'm keeping it safe for him, sir. You see, it's his most prized possession and there have been a string of robberies in his neighborhood."

The homunculus chuckled but let her have her lie. "You keep that safe and sound for him, lieutenant."

"Yes sir, I plan on it."

"Well, why don't we retire early tonight, lieutenant? You have worked extremely hard, after all."

She nodded and began to gather her things. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure."

She didn't reach into her pocket until she was safe in her apartment, doors locked and deadbolt thrust into it. Fingers trembling, she pulled the necklace from her pocket. The tiny locket was carefully cracked open.

A tiny piece of paper fluttered out.

Hands shaking yet again, Riza reached down to pick it up. Scrawled in his familiar handwriting were four simple words.

_My heart, forever yours._

**AVLDPC is in the beta stages right now, folks. Songfire15 and sunarose are dissecting it as we speak. Geez, they're going to hate me for all the grammar and dialogue issues. I owe them cookies…**

**Review please!**


	21. Piggyback

It came like a summer storm on a Tuesday afternoon, a sudden and completely spontaneous Roy Mustang bursting into the office with a furious look on his face.

"Hawkeye, I'm sick of you watching my back!"

The lieutenant in question raised her eyebrows and looked up at her superior. "Oh really, sir? Ten years and _now _you're sick of me?"

He pouted. "I never said that! I only said that I was sick of you watching my back!"

Her eyebrows went up further. "Care to explain the difference, Colonel?"

"From now on, lieutenant, I want you to walk beside me instead!"

She blushed. "I can't watch your back as well from there, sir."

He sat down on the floor, stroking his imaginary beard thoughtfully. "Well then, Hawkeye, we have a problem. Any ideas on the solution?"

She shook her head and returned to the paperwork.

"AHA!" he exclaimed suddenly, jumping up and grinning. Riza looked up, startled, but he took to notice and continued. "What if we rode piggyback?"

***Cough* Well, that was spontaneous. **

**By the way, marshmallows. **


	22. I Used to Remember You

**HOLY MACKEREL. SAKURA-CON IN EIGHT HOURS. *loud fangirl noises of joy* **

**So anyway, here's a drabble. I'm about halfway through the next chapter of AVLDPC, and High School is at a standstill atm. Sorry I've been dead for the last two weeks – my life suddenly appeared and took over my...well…my life. XD Hopefully I'll have AVLDPC up by Saturday. **

He couldn't quite place her face as his eyes opened. She looked so familiar, but he couldn't place her face. Roy was absolutely positive he'd seen her, known her, shared his darkest secrets with her, and somehow…

She was a total stranger.

"Are you all right, sir?" she questioned, helping him to his feet. "My name is Elizabeth. You took quite a fall back there."

He blinked once, frowning.

"Do I…Do I know you, Miss Elizabeth? I feel as if I've met you somewhere before."

She shook her head. "I doubt you would ever have visited the tiny town I grew up in."

"It's the oddest feeling… As if, in some alternate dimension, you are…more than a stranger."

She smiled. "I feel the same way."

"Would you care to join me for lunch? Perhaps we can get to the bottom of this conundrum."

Even a year later, at their wedding, Roy couldn't place where he'd seen her before.

Hughes marveled at how even though his best friend and his best friend's fiancé lost their memories, never regained them, but managed to fall in love.

Again.

**So that was short and AU. Mrow. **

**Prompt #48, "I used to remember you"**


	23. Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

"_Speak now or forever hold your peace." _

He couldn't take it. He considered himself strong, but to stand by quietly and feel his heart shatter as she married a man that was not him was something he could never take. All through the planning, all through the smiles, his traitorous mind had secretly hoped that something would happen to stop it, something that gave him the opportunity, any tiny opening…

But he could not be the end of her happiness, not again. It was too often that he had watched her radiant smile fade into tears and all through the planning he had been in a constant battle with himself. Did he want to end her smile and quite possibly their long friendship but – perhaps – keep his heart whole, or let his heart shatter and her smile live on, belonging to someone else?

There were murmurs as he stood up and walked out of the tiny church, concealing his emotions as he walked steadily toward the doors. He was just too damn selfish to let her go, and he certainly couldn't _watch_ it happen.

He missed the bride's expression as he took his leave, and the way she kissed her groom one last time before picking up her skirt and rushing out behind him, trying desperately to catch up.

"Please tell me you're not losing your bride to that womanizing bastard," muttered the best man as the bride disappeared.

The groom sighed softly. "I guess I expected this. I had a feeling that when I fell in love with her, she'd never even look at me. They've been in love for a long time and just too scared to admit it. She always belonged to him, and he belonged to her, and I was a fool to try to change that."

"You mean you're okay with this?"

"As okay as I can be. He'll treat her right, exactly like I would treat her – probably better. They say that when you love someone, let them go, and if they come back, it'll all be all right, but that's not the case. If you're really in love, like he is, you're too selfish to let them go at all."

The best man raised an eyebrow. "So you don't love her like he does?"

"No," muttered the groom sadly. "I guess I don't."

**Wow, that was really an original concept there. Still, I liked it. That poor groom. **

**Anyway, that was my filler drabble. I'm going to sleep now, because Tournament of Champions is on Saturday, and I was not well today. Poor Mom, I was sick on Mother's Day… XP Happy birthday, Arakawa! It is the birthday of the Holy Cow! And Mother's Day! And this drabble relates to neither! **


	24. Star

**From my DA group's Royai week: Day Three, "Star". DA is annoying. My group is RoyaiFanClub, by the way. **

_Now, let's see, how does that old story start again? Oh, yes, I remember. There was once a man that fell in love with a star, though, looking at the story, I suppose you could also say that there was once a star that fell in love with a man. It was near the very dawn of our country, and the man we speak of was our savior with fingers of fire that rescued us from the horrors our land endured for centuries before his birth. His name was Roy Mustang, and he was our great king, just and fair, young, handsome—_

_And also terribly, horribly lonely. He would gaze up at the heavens every clear night there was from the highest point he could climb to and stare at the stars as if willing himself to fly up and meet them. He was not in any way deprived of people, but half of his heart was empty, and he longed to fill it. _

"Later," he commanded the man that attempted to show him anything.

"No," he said to any woman who wished to entice him.

Somehow, through the never ending mobs of people, he finally reached his observatory, locked the door, and climbed the stairs with a loyal canine at his heels. Roy threw his head back and watched the night sky, black velvet with tiny, perfect diamonds scattered in a mesmerizing pattern. It was only seconds before he located the brightest one in the center of a ring of tiny, faint stars. The fable of that star was well known, a noble among stars, a princess even, surrounded always by her faithful guards and safe from the prying eyes of the jealous. The great astronomers before him had named her Eye of the Hawk, telling of her great sight through her protectors to see Earth as clearly as Earth could see her.

He would talk to her on occasion, one sided conversations of no real importance to anyone, not even himself. There were nights that he felt happy with a single glance, and others that it took hours to warm his heart as he knew she would. Never did she answer him in his rambles, and never did she change, but that was all right.

"Hello, Eye of the Hawk. Can you see me tonight, or are your guards to thick?" he whispered, twisting a telescope in his hands, raising it to his eye. "You look beautiful."

_Hello._

He lowered the eyepiece slowly, his gaze still fixed on the bright dot high in the night sky. Was it the rustling of the trees that he heard, or a sigh of the wind?

_Hello._

It came again, slightly louder than the time before. There telescope dropped to the ground and Roy reached up towards the heavens.

"Am I going crazy, Hawk's Eye? Is all this watching getting to my head?" he asked quietly, wishing desperately for an answer.

_I'm here, and I have wished to talk to you for a long time._

His eyes widened. She had heard him. It was not all his fantasies.

_The sun is rising soon. I will fade, my king._

"Your…King?" he stuttered. "Why do you call me that, Hawk's Eye? I am no more your king than I am king of the moon or the sun."

The star twinkled as if she was laughing. _I am free to chose my own king. You are mine._

"Then good evening to you, my lady. May I find you as radiant tomorrow as you are today," he murmured as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Black Hayate barked once in farewell. Roy looked down on his dog and patted him on the head, a small smile gracing his features.

_Goodbye, my king. _

She faded away slowly, her light one of the last to leave the skies. Before he could see her no longer, there was a fierce pounding on the door below and a voice shouting his name.

"ROY! GET DOWN HERE! GRACIA'S IN LABOR, SHE'S IN LABOR!"

Snapped from his daze, Roy ran down the stairs and yanked the door open as fast as he could. "What the hell did you just say, Hughes?"

"Gracia's in labor! Get your sorry ass out of that gloomy tower!"

"Get your sorry ass to your wife's side, Hughes, I'll be there in a second!"

Maes was gone in a flash, and Roy glanced up one last time at the pinks and blues that mixed in the early morning sky. "I will talk to you tomorrow, my lady."

There was no reply. Roy began to run. Hughes would need all the help he could get.

Gracia was in labor until late that night.

"It's a girl, Lady Gracia," said a tired maid, her eyes tired but shining with happiness.

Gracia's eyes were even heavier, but the pride in them gave her enough strength to sit herself up.

"Elysia, right, Gracia?" Maes asked hesitantly, rubbing his hand. It had been crushed by Gracia very early in the long process and had been crushed again many times throughout the day. "We were going to name her Elysia."

Gracia took the tiny bundle from the maid's arms and smiled at the screaming infant. She seemed so much calmer when she wasn't in pain – a drastic difference from the screaming Gracia an hour before.

The maid drew back the curtains to let in the light of the moon. One star, surrounded by so many others, twinkled bright. The Eye of the Hawk had met Elysia Hughes. Roy leaned against the wall and smiled. "I like her too, Hawk's Eye," he whispered. "I like her too."

Again he received no reply but another twinkle. His smile only grew into a rare, goofy grin. "Congratulations," he said, standing tall. Maes and Gracia gave him a nod, and the maids curtsied shallowly. He waved them off casually. "None of that. Goodbye."

He left the chamber and walked casually to his observatory, careful to avoid late-night workers. The door was locked, Hayate was wakened, and the stairs were climbed again. "Good evening."

_Shouldn't you be with the happy family?_

He smirked. "It's a private moment, Hawk's Eye. The celebration comes later. I was just filling up space."

_What is the baby's name? I cannot hear through all those walls._

"Elysia. Elysia Hughes, and Maes has been pestering me for nine months about how I should be the godfather."

_It seems fitting. Is he a good friend? _

Roy nodded. "A best friend."

_Then it is really only necessary. It is tradition for the best friends or the family of the parents to be the godparents, correct?_

He chuckled. "You listen well, Hawk's Eye. What else do you know about the world? Why I am king? What it truly is?"

_I suppose. I watched you with great interest before you watched the skies, but I am no expert on anything on Earth. _

"I see. Do you know my name, or am I just 'my king'?"

A tiny laugh reached his ears – perhaps it was not a laugh at all. _I do not know your name_, _my king._

"It's Roy. Just call me Roy."

_A fitting name. _

"It's like my parents predicted my future, almost. What's your name, Hawk's Eye?"

_Riza. Those close to me call me Riza._

He smiled. "It intrigues me that we have spoken for nothing but two days and we already freely give away our names and secrets."

_I have not told you secrets. I have none. _

"No secrets? Is it different up there, in the skies? There is not one secret?"

She did not respond for a long time. _No, _she finally whispered, _No secrets.  
_

His world was perfect for three weeks. Roy would talk to her for hours, usually falling asleep on the bench in his observatory when exhaustion finally bested him.

Hughes finally cornered him one day after council.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Roy? This country is falling apart, and you're off in some fantasy land talking to a star! You're a _king, _Roy, you can't just care about this nonexistent fuzzy patch of sky that you'll never actually be able to meet!" Hughes yelled, his hands by his sides but curling into tight fists.

"This country is _fine, _Hughes, and don't forget that! I am not abandoning it for Riza!"

"Riza? So this…_thing…_has a name?"

"Of course she has a name, Hughes! The Eye of the Hawk, Riza! Why wouldn't she have a name?"

Hughes groaned and nearly punched his best friend in his face before stopping his fist inches from his cheek. "She's all in your head, Roy. Stars are just that – stars. This 'Riza' is nothing but your head playing games with you. Get it together, or I'm not going to have any choice. We went through too much to get this country to where it's at now, and while you may have lost sight of it, I haven't. Three days, Roy. Three days."

Hughes pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turned away, leaving Roy leaning against the wall with a look of utter shock on his face.

"Do you need to talk, Roy?" asked a gentle voice. Roy turned his head and his eyes softened in relief when he saw Gracia Hughes.

"No, I'm-" Gracia raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he admitted sheepishly, straightening up and scratching the back of his neck.

Gracia smiled half-heartedly and nodded. "Riza, you say? She has a name?"

Roy looked up at the sky, expecting to see the Eye of the Hawk, but was met instead with stone ceiling. "Yes. Riza, and she's not just in my head. She's kind, she hides her emotions, she's lonelier than I am… She's real, Gracia, I swear."

Gracia led him down the hallways. "You've never seen her. No one but you has even talked to her, Roy. How do we know that she's real? One man's reality is another's hallucination."

Roy paused to consider his answer. "Can you…fall in love with a hallucination, Gracia? Am I really that crazy?"

She turned around, her eyes wide but not as wide as he expected. "I don't know. But Maes is convinced she's only in your head, Roy. Someone else needs to talk to her. It should be Maes, but he's too wound up to do anything."

Roy nodded. "Then will you come? Maes trusts you more than he ever trusted me."

"Yes. I suppose I can come. But Roy…if I don't hear her, I don't think I can acknowledge her."

_Roy…who is this woman? _

Roy bit his lip. There was no emotion in her voice, only the most vague hints of betrayal.

"This is Gracia, Riza. Maes' wife. Can you talk to her too? She wants to meet you."

Gracia did not move, her gaze fixed on the star that she knew to be the Eye of the Hawk.

_Gracia? It's a lovely name. _

Gracia stumbled backwards in surprise, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Roy smiled in relief. "See, Gracia? She's real."

"A…star. I just heard a star talk to me," she murmured.

_Hello. _Riza's voice was uncertain.

"Hello, Riza. I've heard about you," Gracia said, recovering from her shock.

_He told you… about me? _

Gracia nodded.

Roy ran his fingers through his hair and stifled a yawn.

_You're both exhausted. Go to sleep, don't waste time talking to me._

"I'm not that tired. I love talking to you, Riza," Roy said, stifling another yawn.

_Go to sleep, Roy Mustang, that's an order._

"Cocky star, aren't you? Ordering me around like it's nothing."

_Technically, I am above you._

"That was a terrible joke, Riza."

_What joke?  
_

"No, Gracia," were the first words out of Maes' mouth. "I trust you when you say that, but she's stealing away our leader. She has to go."

Gracia cradled Elysia, rocking her slowly back and forth. "She means no harm, Maes. She's exactly as Roy describes her, and he's happier with her."

"She's a goddamned star, Gracia. How can he be happy with something he can only see from far away?"

Gracia shot him a look when he swore. "How can we deny him happiness?"

"She still has to go, Gracia. Something has to happen, or we lose a king."

Roy returned the next night with eyes filled with pain. "It wasn't enough, Riza. They're all saying… saying I'm ignoring the country for you."

_Then ignore me, you idiot! I'm not worth losing a country!_

Her voice was not disguised, and anger filled it. He inhaled sharply. "But-"

_But what?_

He stopped himself from saying three tiny words. "Nothing."

_It's not nothing, Roy. Tell me. You can tell me anything._

"I…I guess I…" he stammered. "I'm sorry Riza, damn it! I fell in love with you, and I can't let you go!"

She did not respond right away, and each second dropped another weight into Roy's stomach as it passed.

_I love you too._

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "What fools we are, falling in love with the people we could never have," he spat, clenching his telescope.

_Roy, I could come down to Earth._

"What?" he exclaimed, dropping his telescope.

_I could come down to Earth. Do you…Would you…I understand if you refuse. _

"Why would I refuse? Would something happen to you?"

_I would become human, but that is all. _

"No. Don't give up your immortality for the likes of me, Riza. I'm not worth it, and I'll never be worth it," he protested.

_So you don't want me on Earth, I understand, Roy. _Her emotions wore a mask again, but he knew there was disappointment in it.

"You are immortal, Riza. Immortal, perfect… Why would you give that up, even if I do love you?"

_Because I am also lonely, I suppose. And… What use is immortality, anyway?_

"It's…It's your decision, Riza. I love you, but I wouldn't ask you to give up immortality for me, not ever."

A brilliant streak of light illuminated the night sky, like a shining teardrop from the heavens. As it fell, Roy slowly saw arms and legs, then a head, hair, and a beautiful dress piece themselves together, slowly until it was not a tear falling from the sky but a woman. She began to twist in the air, trying to see the ground before she collided with it. Reaching out his arms, Roy managed to catch her.

"Riza?" he asked, cradling her cheek in his hand. She nodded.

"I hope you aren't disappointed, Roy," she whispered, her large amber eyes peering into his dark ones.

"Why would I be, Riza?" he asked. "I've known you for three weeks, and somehow I knew you were the only one I would ever love.

She blushed, her pale form still as fragile looking as moonlight. "Enough, Roy, with the sappy love confessions, please."

He set her down, and her eyes became wide as bare feet touched the freezing stones. She looked up at him in mild alarm, raising her dress to examine her toes. "It's cold!"

He laughed. "That's normal. Come on, Riza. Let's get you some shoes."

_And I suppose there is where our story ends. There is, of course, more, but the story could always continue, and most must end eventually. Riza, the "Hawk's Eye" became our queen, and she was as just and fair as she was beautiful, though she hated to be called out on appearances. Roy remained our king, and his children took the throne when he deemed himself too old to rule and retreated into the country with Riza by his side. Our king and queen – what a perfect story, isn't it?_


	25. Lullaby for a Stormy Night

**Listen to "Lullaby for a Stormy Night" while reading this. It's by Vienna Teng, and it's one of my most favorite songs in the world. **

The rain pounded harshly against the glass of the Fuhrer's mansion. Late in the night, the wife of the Fuhrer could not sleep thanks to the neverending kicks to her stomach.

"Come on, baby," she muttered. "It's time to go to sleep."

"Mommy?"

Riza sat up immediately, scanning the dark room. A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the teary face of her four year old daughter, Charlotte.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, nearly wincing from a powerful thunderclap.

"I'm scared, Mommy," Charlotte whispered, frozen to the floor.

Riza pulled back the blankets and crouched down next to the little girl, careful not to disturb her husband. "Let's go back to your room and I'll tuck you in, okay? Daddy has a big day tomorrow, so we want to make sure he doesn't wake up."

Lightning flashed again, and Charlotte practically flew into her mother's firm embrace.

"You know, Charlotte, thunderstorms aren't that scary," Riza reassured the teary toddler as she drew the covers up to her chin. "Thunder is just two clouds bumping together, and lightning is just the clouds saying hello to the earth."

"Really, Mommy?"

Riza nodded. "Really."

"Why does it have to be so loud?"

"Well, they're just very big, that's all. I'm sure they don't mean to be so loud. Your daddy used to tell me that every time there was a thunderstorm."

Charlotte's eyes grew wide and she huddled under the blankets. "There's a man at the window," she whispered, terrified.

Riza's hand went automatically to her left hip, patting and grasping empty air. She turned her head slightly toward the window and sighed in relief. "It's only a tree, Charlotte. It's okay."

One dark blue eye peeped out from under the blankets, then the other, then a nose. "Oh."

"Are you still scared?"

Charlotte smiled and shook her head. "I love you, Mommy," she muttered as she yawned.

"I love you too," Riza murmured and kissed her forehead. As she left her daughter's room and closed the door softy behind her, strong arms wrapped around her waist and a face nuzzled in to the crook of her neck.

"You're really good at that, you know," Roy muttered sleepily. "But you shouldn't tell Charlotte lies like that. Thunder is caused by lightning when the mass of s-"

"Don't ruin the moment, Roy," Riza warned, glaring at him. "You used to tell me that. "

"Sorry, Riza," he muttered, then kissed her neck. "I guess this is why you do the midnight scares."

"Yes, Roy, that's exactly why. A four year old does not understand science in the middle of the night when they're terrified out of their wits."

"I love you too, Riza."

**Fluffyflufffluff. With bonus Royai spawnie! Meet Charlotte. She's cute. I try not to reuse kid names for any couples – with the exception of Maes, of course – because then it's always the same kid. There's not just one set Royai kid, so let's experiment! Charlotte started out as Mae, but then was Alexandra, and I settled on Charlotte. Right. **

**Working on AVLDPC, but it might not be up for a week. Sun Arose is in Seattle. Well, she's actually IN Seattle. But besides that, she has better things to be doing at the moment than betaing. **


	26. Fall for your Guardian Angel

**All right, this came to me late at night as I was trying to fall asleep – written listening to a repeating cycle of nothing but "Fall for You" by Secondhand Serenade and "Your Guardian Angel" by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. **

**No beta on this, and AVLDPC is being worked on, I promise!**

They heard the clock toll. Nine hours until midnight. Nine hours until death.

He was guilty. If only _he _could die, not drag her along as he always seemed to do.

He was leading her to her death.

_She was merely following him like she always had before. The circumstances were different now, but she was still following him and nothing had changed about that. _

The guard of her cell opened it to let in two young men, one with dark, messy hair and broken glasses. The other was confined to a wheelchair, but he smoked his cigarette proudly all the same. She spared him a glance of exasperation – he had sworn he was going to quit.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," began the man with broken glasses before she raised a palm and stopped him.

"I don't think I can rightfully be called a Lieutenant anymore, Master Sergeant. Riza is fine."

Kain Fuery faltered and sighed heavily, his brow knitting as his frown deepened. "Do you have to?"

Havoc grabbed Kain's arm and shot him a warning look. Kain met it with a scowl and shook off Havoc's grip. "I know what you think, Havoc, but I'm not going to sit back and watch my friends die!"

"You have no control over this, Master Sergeant," Riza murmured, interrupting Havoc's retort. "I know you didn't want it to happen, but this is the way our fate takes us."

"Don't you see?" Fuery protested, his voice quiet but more demanding than Riza or Havoc had ever heard it. "He doesn't want you to die! He doesn't care what happens to him, but he wants you to live!"

"He's being foolish," she whispered. "He knows what would happen if only he died tonight."

_Plip, plip, plip_

Eventually Jean broke the silence, flicking his cigarette butt across the tiny cell before he saluted. "It was an honor to know you, Lieutenant Hawkeye. Be safe."

She saluted back, but it was halfhearted and distracted. What her focus was Fuery did not know.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Hawkeye," he said mournfully, not raising his hand in a salute, but extending it for a handshake.

"Take care of Black Hayate, Kain."

He was surprised to note her grip was still firm and warm, just like he knew it to be. The gate eased open behind them. When it shut again, she was alone, but she could hear them as they argued down the hall.

"We can save her, Havoc! You know we can, why aren't we?"

_He was still so young, so naïve. What did he think she would do if forced to know Roy Mustang was dead?_

"Damn, Fuery. You really didn't see anything in those years? She goes where he does. We'd only be hurting her if we got a stay of execution."

"But at least she'd be _alive_!"

_He still saw things in black and white, not unlike the way she used to. Life and death. If a person was not alive, they were dead, and if their heart was beating, they must be alive._

"I guarantee we'd find her dead the next morning, Fuery."

_At least someone was thinking sensibly. _

Their voices faded and all she could hear was the creak of the pipes.

~*ooo*~

"But what do we do now, Havoc?" Fuery finally asked, as they stepped out onto the street.

Jean lit another cigarette and took a long drag. "Well, I know what I'm going to do, but you're a special case."

"What?"

"Quit. Go home and marry some girl, have a few kids, live a good life. When the kids are old enough, tell them the truth about Mustang and Hawkeye, and forget all of this happened. That's your job now."

"I can't just do that!"

"You need to. After the public finds out about their deaths, there could be a civil war. If you had to fight in that, they'd look down from wherever they'll be and their hearts would break. The rest of us are beyond help, but you can still live your life."

They did not speak again for a long time.

~*ooo*~

The guards of the compound Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were imprisoned in had learned about those sentenced to death. There were those who cackled madly and screamed up at the heavens, those that pleaded and begged to be set free, and those who did nothing at all, resigning themselves to their fate.

"Visitor for you, Mustang," the guard grumbled.

He nodded.

"Colonel Bastard."

Roy knew that voice all too well. "Fullmetal. I'm surprised you would bother visiting me."

"Decided I'd get in some last insults before you can't beat them back anymore," Ed declared with false bravado, hiding the waver in his voice.

"I'm flattered."

_Plip, plip, plip._

"You'd think they could afford some better plumbing," Ed growled, swiping at the offensive drops.

Roy chuckled, his eyes light for only a second. "I don't think it matters to most of the prisoners here."

Ed folded his arms across his chest and scowled as he always did when in Roy's presence.

_Plip, plip, plip. _

"You probably don't want to hear this," Ed finally muttered. "but I might as well tell you."

He met the former colonel's eyes, the lump in his throat growing larger with every moment. "You know how Al and I didn't really like our old man, right?"

"Hohenheim?"

"Yea."

"I think Alphonse liked him more than you did."

"Well, he was a bastard all the same!" Ed argued, heat rising to his face. If he had still been in his office, behind his sturdy desk, Roy would have made a joke of it.

_No, this was no time for jokes. Even then had been no time for jokes, but he could never seem to stop them. _

Ed faltered, losing his resolve. "I just wanted to say that…" _Damn, his voice was going to break. _"You're more of a father to us than he ever was."

He watched Roy stand and the corners of his mouth tug into a small smile. "I guess then you have two shitty fathers, Ed."

A tear leaked from Ed's eye before he wiped it away angrily. "You weren't so bad most of the time."

_All he remembered was anger. Ed had always been angry at him, angry at the military, angry at the philosopher's stone – when had Roy ever helped him as a father was supposed to help a son? When had he encouraged Ed or Al, telling them to get up again and try even harder? _

_How could he be like a father to them when all he did was belittle them?_

"Thank you," he whispered, his own voice unable to rise. Somehow, it was still a relief to hear Ed say that all he did was not for nothing.

The clock tolled yet again. Six hours until midnight. Six hours until death.

~*ooo*~

Roy wished she hadn't saved him.

If she hadn't saved him, he would already be dead and she wouldn't have to die with him.

He knew he was lying to himself. If she hadn't saved him, she would have long since killed herself. But it was a dream. Maybe if she hadn't saved him, she could have fallen in love and married, finally had the family she deserved.

Somehow, even now, it made his gut wrench. The mere thought of her leaving him was too much for his greedy mind to think about.

_Even into hell, if that is your wish. _

She was much too loyal for her own good. If only it hadn't had to end like this.

He barely heard the great clocktower this time. Four hours until midnight. Four hours until death.

And yet, it still did not rain.

He wished it would, even for a few seconds. He wished he was not as heartless as he felt.

~*ooo*~

She had long since realized she was not going to cry.

She had failed in her duty. He was going to die.

_(Riza did not think of her own death. Death was merely life without him.)_

_Dong, dong, dong_

The clock tolled ten times. Two hours until midnight. Two hours until the end.

"Miss Hawkeye?" the guard asked nervously.

Riza knew that tone. It was time to begin. No turning back now, not that there ever was a time to turn back, and not that she would change a second of it.

~*ooo*~

"Please, damnit!" Ed yelled. "They _have _to live, you shithead!"

"The Fuhrer has ordered their execution, Major Elric. They _have _to die."

This man was really getting on his nerves now. Two of the country's best soldiers, and he didn't even blink for their deaths.

"You have no idea what they've done for this country! More than you ever will, and the Fuhrer is just going to kill them for disobeying _one damned order?_"

"He has also heard about a coup, Major. Fuhrer Bradley cannot risk having such dangerous people running around."

"They saved the lives of an Ishvalan infant_, _asshole, and then they saved the lives of each other! They aren't dangerous unless you are their enemy!"

"Fullmetal pipsqueak, they _are _our enemy."

Ed knew that voice as well as he knew the grotesque grin. "Envy," he growled.

He attacked without another word.

~*ooo*~

"Would it be too much to ask for her face to be the last one I see?" Roy asked the guard.

"I'll…" the burly man faltered as he saw Roy's face. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"I'm not promising anything, mind you."

"I know."

~*ooo*~

His last wish was granted, but not in the way he imagined it to be.

"Line up the prisoners!"

It hurt him to see her bound like she was. Even after following him for so long, she was still a free spirit. It was as if a great bird had been stuffed into a cage so small that she could not spread her wings.

There were others dying tonight as well – thugs, murderers, traitors, those that Roy would have looked down upon before he stood next to them and been forced to accept he was no better.

Her hands brushed against his and he looked to his left. Riza smiled as if to encourage him.

"Riza…" he began, not sure of what to say to her.

"Don't blame yourself, Roy," she said, her chestnut eyes meeting his onyx ones. They seemed washed out in the harsh spotlight that was focused on the souls soon to be gone, but they were still her eyes and somehow they were calm in the raging storm they faced.

Roy wondered what his eyes looked like – he had never been good at hiding his emotion, and surely the whirlwind of emotion he felt now was showing in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he breathed, low enough so only she could hear. "It is my fault, and I am blaming myself. "

"Then stop," she demanded, loud enough for the entire row to hear. Heads turned, but they did not care.

"I can't! It's my fault you're dying, and if you weren't so damn stubborn you could be _safe _right now! Think of yourself for once!"

"I chose my own path, Roy Mustang. You did not force me down it, and I don't _care _about living if it doesn't have you!"

"OI! You two, eleven and twelve, shut your traps and stand in line!" bellowed the man in charge. They both knew of him, a large, beefy man that began life as a convict and fought tooth and nail to gain nothing but the control of the graveyard shift.

Riza turned back to face the wall, the chains on her wrist jangling and rubbing the skin raw.

Somehow he could not bring himself to see that blank, cracked wall again. Swinging his arms up and over her head, they came to rest on her neck. The chain drew her closer to him, and their lips crashed together forcefully.

No one stopped them.

Sixteen riflemen, one for each convict, loaded their weapons and set their target in the sights.

"STOP!"

Sixteen rifles dropped and thirty-three heads turned to the entrance.

"We have a stay of execution for Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye!" Ed gasped, waving a battered paper in the air. His arm was missing and his entire body was red with blood, but Roy had never seen him look more triumphant.

"Fire, men," said the warden gravely, casting his eyes away from the blonde teenager.

"What the hell do you mean? Don't fire, you idiots, two of those people deserve to walk free!"

"They warned me this could happen. Fire."

Roy braced himself for the blackness, glancing at Riza one last time.

"It's not death, Roy. Don't think of it like that," she whispered, drawing him closer until their noses touched. "It's just the next step in our journey, and I'll follow you no matter where it takes us."

"BASTARDS, LET THEM GO!"

Roy felt a blindfold be slipped over his eyes.

Still no gunshot.

"Thank you," he breathed into her ear.

"IT'S OFFICIAL, I SWEAR IT IS! LET THEM GO!"

The silence that followed seemed never to end, only broken by the toll of the dreaded clock.

Twelve.

"Release them. The Fullmetal Alchemist speaks the truth."

There were footsteps again, hurried ones this time, and several soldiers throwing down their guns.

And still, nothing happened. He clutched her tighter, still terrified to let her go for only one second.

A new voice, cold and familiar, piereced through the confusion.

"Shoot them."

"But Major Kimblee, we've been ordered not to now, Major Elric has the stay of excecution!" came the desperate voice of a rifleman, one of the few that had not abandoned his post.

"If you do not shoot, Lieutenant, I will kill them anyway, and trust me when I say their deaths will be long and painful."

He tensed and buried his nose in her hair. Somehow it still smelled like _her, _even through the week of imprisonment and filth.

"Fire."

He could hear it being loaded, slowly and painfully. Terror filled him.

There was a gunshot, and she went limp in his arms.

"LIEUTENANT!" he screamed, raising his hands to her head and feeling them covered in her blood. His hands dropped again, and he finally began to cry. "RIZA!"

His body fell backwards, her head on his chest and their arms and chains still entwined.

Ed's cry echoed through the prison as he ran towards the pair. Desperation filled his entire body – _they couldn't be dead, he had fought Envy and finally gotten the stay of execution and gotten there in time, they couldn't die now._

He fell to his knees.

They were gone.

Another gunshot echoed through the air, and the warden lowered his smoking pistol. "Bastard."

Kimblee died with shock still etched on his face.

~*ooo*~

The fourteen other convicts that night did not die.

The two that did could not be – some said _would _not be – separated by anyone that tried, and were eventually laid to rest under an ash tree overlooking Central City.

On their grave, under the stone that marked their names, one could always find cyclamen and zinnia, as if Edward Elric wished to tell them one last thing.

**Reviews are love, if you would care to spend two seconds! **


	27. 1, 2, 3, 4

They did not know what to call it.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

A proper waltz is done in triple time. It is embedded in the very definition of a waltz: a dance with two people in triple time during which the pair move in circles, one step per beat. For those unfamiliar with music, the count, of course, is _1, _2, 3,_ 1, _2, 3.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

But this was not in triple time. There were four beats in this song, but it was slow and graceful. They turned in circles over and over, stepping once per beat. It was a waltz in all but time. An improper waltz, to give it a name.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

She stepped too far back and tumbled down, as she twisted and turned. The music was too loud in his ears for him to hear her scream. The haunting melody hurt him long after she had vanished from his sight, even as he tried to begin the dance again.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

He could not. A waltz, however improper and even though done in the wrong time, was still a dance for two. One cannot perform it, no matter their skill or determination.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

In one final attempt to rid himself of the burden, he fell and followed his partner, his only beloved, twisting and turning as there was nothing but air to slow his fall.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

Ghostly figures dance, their garments – white and black – mixing into gray smoke to surround them. They cannot fall now.

_1, 2, 3, 4_

They still do not know what to call their dance.

**Just a little filler drabble – halfway done with the rough of AVLDPC. Hopefully I'll have a little time this week to work on it. In between cosplay and essays. XP**


	28. Jump Rope

**Okay, this drabble is going to take some explaining, and even then you're probably going to be like "-.- Seriously?"**

**Jump rope is actually a sport. Just look up "Hot Dog USA jump rope" on youtube sometime. (And seriously, that's only one team. And it's damn impressive.) So because I am a hopelessly obsessed Royai fangirl…it was only a matter of time before I combined them with my favorite sport in the world. Competitors compete first in their own age divisions, then the top scorers from each event (double dutch, single rope, etc.) go on to Grand Nationals, and only compete against each other. It's a huge accomplishment to even get to Grand Nationals, and to win it is often one of the best moments in a jumper's life. Anyway, on to the story, now that I've rambled.**

Usually she braided her own hair.

Riza had taught herself at a young age – her father was hardly going to do it, and she felt like a burden to continue to ask the other mothers.

Today was different, and Rebecca had made it very clear the moment Riza sat down after being acknowledged as a competitor in Grand Nationals thatthe only person French braiding Riza's hair for Grand Nationals was her.

So it was four in the morning and her head was being tugged into the tightest French braids known to any jumper on the planet.

"You're too quiet, Ri," Rebecca said with another ferocious tug. "Honestly, it may be four in the morning, but something more is on your mind, isn't it?"

Riza bit her lip. "I can't jump today, Becca."

"What the hell do you mean, you can't jump today? You've been training for this for eleven _years, _Ri, and unless you're hospitalized you're going to jump today!"

"It's…I…"

"Feel sick? That happens. Just don't do it on stage, and you'll be okay."

One braid was finally finished, and Riza was able to turn and look her best friend in the eye. "It's not that!" She watched Rebecca raise an eyebrow. "Not _just _that."

Rebecca's eyes softened as she forced Riza's head back around and began the other braid. "It's Roy, isn't it?"

"I feel like I'm missing a part of me, Becca," she muttered as she drew her knees up to her chin. "He's back home, probably still angry, and I'm sitting here about to compete for a trophy that I've wanted forever."

"Ri, he doesn't understand. You don't need him if he doesn't understand."

"But…But…"

"Riza Hawkeye, that Roy Mustang boy may be the perfect gentleman, but a few girls flirting with him is nothing you can control. Maybe you overreacted, but you had every right to."

"But he wasn't flirting with _them_! And…And…"

"Solaris and her little bitch-group aren't your problem. They're his, Ri, and if he was just going to accept all of what he was, then you don't need him."

Riza moaned. "You make it sound so easy, Becca."

"I know. But that's all there is to it," Rebecca replied. "Done. Go win this team another trophy, girl."

~*Break*~

"_Heat number three – Riza Hawkeye, from the Sol Jumpers!"_

The applause was tremendous – it was Nationals, after all. Thousands of people were watching her every move. If she faltered, if she missed…

That trophy was gone.

"_Judges ready."_

Hundreds of hours of practice.

She had bled from all the whips her rope had given her when her feet had not matched what her arms were doing.

She had cried and sweat, and it all came down to this.

One minute and fifteen seconds.

"_Jumpers ready."_

Roy was still in her mind, but not the pain she had felt earlier.

"_I believe in you, Riza."_

Suddenly, the stage and the lights weren't so menacing. She was back on the gym floor of her high school, stomach turning. Her heat was next. If she didn't make it here, she wouldn't go on to Nationals.

A mop of messy black hair dashed past the elderly woman that was supposed to be guarding the competitor's area. He crashed into her and pressed his lips against hers, muttering those five simple words after they broke apart.

She had flown.

"_Set."_

And now, she had to fly again.

"_Go."_

One minute an fifteen seconds to prove to the world that she was strong. One minute and fifteen seconds to prove to the world that she was flawless.

One minute and fifteen seconds to prove that she was the best.

Roy's words rang in her ears, and she flew.

~*Break*~

"RIZAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

She was attacked by Rebecca as soon as she came offstage.

"Told you. You're fine."

Riza managed a nervous smile. "How was it?"

"Best you've ever done! You and Roy should fight more often!"

Reality came crashing down on her. He hadn't been there, cheering her on. Her heart plummeted.

"Riza?"

She was hallucinating now, because that was his voice, even though it was timid and nervous. Rebecca didn't seem to notice that Riza had frozen in place and continued bouncing everywhere.

"Riza?"

It was louder this time. Rebecca stopped mid-jump and her eyebrows rose as if in shock. Riza dared to turn her head.

"I'm sorry."

Roy held out a bouquet, running his fingers through his messy dark hair.

Riza ignored the flowers and broke away from Rebecca, a smile spreading across her face before she closed the distance between them.

"I got the tickets a few months ago to surprise you," he began before she cut him off with a kiss.

~*Break*~

"_And the Grand National Champion in Female Single Rope Freestyle is Riza Hawkeye!"_

She accepted her trophy and stood in the middle of the stage as thousands of people cheered.

He understood perfectly.

**Sol Jumpers are an actual team from California. I'm friends with a few of them. (Too lazy to make up my own team. She was almost a Comet Skipper – they're from Ohio and nobody probably cares except me.)**

…**Yea. Thought so. **

**Confused? Intrigued? Angry? Ready to throw flaming melons at me? Send a review my way.**


	29. Two in the Morning

He had a knack for calling her at two in the morning.

Some nights he was drunk, and would whine into the phone until she agreed to pick him up. It did her no good to ignore it, for he would simply call back and let the phone ring until she answered. (She hated those nights.)

Others he was panicking, usually paranoid that someone was out to get her. (Always her. He never worried about himself.) Those nights they would often stay on the phone for hours, until he finally drifted back into his dreams.

He sometimes called just to hear her voice. Often just hearing her say his name was enough to push the monsters back until morning when they seemed to vanish with the dew. She had done this several times as well, but nowhere near as often as he had.

Her neighbors complained once, shuffling over in their robes with bleary eyes.

"_Riza! Riza, did you answer the door? Don't tell me you did, it's too dangerous, please talk to me, you have to be all right or…or…"_

"Sir," she had responded patiently, "It's only the Polks, my neighbors."

Mr. Polk rubbed one eye to clear it and squinted up at Riza. "Miss Hawkeye, we mean you no ill, but do you have any idea what _time _it is?"

She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mr. Polk," the phone was gently set on the counter, so Roy would not hear the next words. "He's just a bit fragile tonight."

They had raised their eyebrows simultaneously. "I'm sure he is, deary, but honestly, this relationship isn't healthy. It's the third time this week," Mrs. Polk replied, patting Riza's arm.

"We're all each other has, ma'am."

"Pish posh. That's the sure mark of an unhealthy relationship there."

"He has his demons, but he means me no ill, Mrs. Polk. He calls because he's afraid."

Her nose wrinkled. "A grown man, afraid? Of what, the dark?"

"No, Mrs. Polk."

"Then what, deary?"

"It's…complicated."

The phone began to buzz with Roy's increasingly panicked voice.

"Excuse me a moment, please."

"_Riza, you aren't talking! Why aren't you talking?" _

"I'm listening."

"_He's coming, Riza. Maybe I should come over there just in case. Scar's only touched State Alchemists so far, but-"_

"Sir, I'm _fine. _There's no danger here. It would be a good idea if you got some sleep, okay?"

When she returned to the doorway, the Polk couple had vanished.

They didn't come again.

~Break~

She was used to it by now, and often she would wake at two in the morning, expecting him to call.

It unnerved her when he did not (even though she knew it shouldn't – it meant he was sleeping, safe from nightmares and other seemingly childish foes of the dark).

Those were the nights she called him – _just in case._

~Break~

The days following the Promised Day were the worst. They were both plagued by nightmares, but she did not know where to call for the comfort he (sometimes unwittingly) provided, and he was barely able to hold the phone, let alone find it and wake whomever was sleeping in the next room.

Riza would lie awake, her neck aching and head throbbing, knowing that she no longer had to fear the shadows that crept on her walls but unable to rid herself of the vision of Pride constantly watching her. (Often she supposed that her lack of fear as a child was the cause of all her fear now, only now it truly meant something.)

Roy would always keep his eyes closed, but sleep was as impossible as sight. Breda snored in the room next to him, and the paper-thin walls blocked none of it (though that was hardly his problem). In the morning, Breda would notice the dark bags under his sightless eyes and wince, feeling just how useless he truly was when faced with battling his superior's demons.

Two in the morning.

She was lying awake again when the phone began to rang.

"_R-Riza?"_

Be it the lateness of the hour or her sheer relief at hearing his voice crackling over the line, Riza forgot fraternization laws and all the formality she always forced on herself.

"Roy."

"_I…"_

"I know, Roy," she said softly, twisting the cord in her fingers and smiling for the first time in what seemed like years. "Thank you."

He must have heard her move to put the phone down. _"No, don't hang up. Don't. It's too dark, Riza. Too dark."_

Her hand faltered. "Roy, there's nothing to fear anymore."

He didn't answer.

"Roy, it's over now," she insisted, convincing herself more than him.

"_It won't be over for a long time, Riza."_

"Roy," she murmured. "Things will change, but the fight is over. This fight is over."

(That fight was over, but there were so many to come. The dark did not frighten them.)

What frightened them was the absence of light.

**Quick little thing – it's been sitting unfinished on my computer for goodness knows how long. Working on AVLDPC, about 1200 words down and ideas bubbling in the back of my brain.**

**Another thing on my to-do list: edit these drabbles so they aren't so horrendous to read. The good ones don't start until chapter 20 XP **


	30. Veteran

_1967_

They were old now.

Her sharp vision had dimmed a bit, and his ears were not what the once had been (she blames the fact that he never wore ear protection when he watched her shoot.).

"Riza?"

She smiles as she washes the breakfast dishes, the wrinkles in her face softening. "What is it now, Roy?"

"They're having a parade today. Can you believe that? A parade? For us old military folks, no less!" his voice was as jovial as it had always been after he left office.

"A parade?" she asked. "That's a startling difference from the last few years, isn't it now?"

He continued his good-natured chuckling. "Yes, it really is, isn't it? What a country. They can't seem to make up their minds about the military anymore. One year we're heroes, the next we're no better than trash."

She shut off the tap and glanced at the scars that were still there, faint on his old, wrinkled skin. "Whatever the public thinks, the true job of a soldier never changes, Roy."

"I suppose you're right. No man should ever sign themselves into the military thinking otherwise."

She ran his fingers through his thinning, silvery hair. "No. Not anymore."

Roy heaved himself up from his chair and tossed the newspaper aside. "Thank god for that."

"You did a good job, you know."

He turned to face her and kissed her cheek gently. "Only because I wasn't alone."

A knock on the door made Riza break away.

"My mommy tolded me to come over and give you these, Granny Riza!" piped up a cheery four year old as she held up a huge tray.

She smiled and bent down to relieve the child of her burden. "Thank you, Clara. Tell your mother thank you."

"She also said that I should say thank you very much for all that you did before I was born!"

Riza pulled off her glasses and wiped them on her shirt. "That's very thoughtful."

"Granny Riza?"

"Yes, Clara?"

"What did you do before I was born?" Clara asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Well, we did a lot of things, Clara. Would you like to hear about some of them?"

"Yes please!"

Riza smiled and guided Clara inside and poured her a class of juice. Roy's head turned and he chuckled again – he seemed in a particularly good mood today – and he sat next to Clara.

"Grandpa Roy!" she squealed, her hands whipping outwards and dangerously close to her glass of juice.

"Calm down there, Clara!" he exclaimed.

"Grandpa Roy, Granny Riza said that she was gonna tell me what you did before I was born!"

"Did she now? That sounds like fun. Could I listen in?"

"Help her, Grandpa Roy!" the girl laughed, tipping backward. She paused and her head turned back toward the door. "Is anyone else coming to hear, Grandpa Roy?"

"What?" he muttered, turning towards the front door,

The sounds came again, but this time loud enough for Roy to hear. Clara jumped down from the chair and ran to the door, opening it before the elderly couple could cross through half the spacious living room.

"Wow!" cheered the little girl, her eyes bright and shining.

The parade continued past, and Riza and Roy shared a satisfied sigh.

"Well, Riza," began Roy, "I think that you've done a good job pushing me through life."

"I wouldn't say I did it all, sir," she replied, and Roy smiled, feeling young again for a meager instant.

**Happy late Veterans Day! I'm only half an hour late Procrastination kills. Decided I didn't like about 200 words of AVLDPC, so word count is back down to 1000 T.T And I'm over 15000 words behind in NaNoWriMo. (And I haven't done any homework, but that's a minor trouble. XD)**

** Veterans Day has special meaning to me – I come from a military family, and my dad watches every Veterans Day pass by in a bit of a state of awe. He served in Vietnam, and people then weren't nearly as supportive of the military as they are now. God bless all who served and all who will.**

** Clara isn't actually their granddaughter, but to four-year-olds it's all the same. Extended family, you know. I called an old lady in our neighborhood "Miss Granny" until we moved when I was seven. **


	31. Coffee Shop

**Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop – it was actually written last **_**spring**_**and has been lying in my fanfiction notebook since. AVLDPC is coming – in the final stages of beta!**

**In the meantime, have some pointless Royai fluff. **

Despite all appearances, Roy Mustang was a man of habit. Every morning, he would stumble into the coffeehouse on fifth street and order the simplest drink the pretty blonde barista could make (she didn't exactly understand why he would bother going to a coffee house for plain black coffee, but he was attractive enough that it didn't make a difference). The table in the corner by the window was generally regarded as his. No one sat there and the infamous, womanizing Flame Alchemist didn't bother anyone.

He didn't expect a foggy Tuesday in March to change his habits, but the blonde woman with amber eyes seemed to disagree.

"Excuse me, miss. You're in my seat."

She didn't even glance up from her book. Roy's frown deepened and he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry if this is usually where you sit, but this isn't primary school, sir. There aren't seating charts, and I'm free to sit wherever I please. You'll have to find another seat."

His glare dropped into a stunned stare. The mysterious woman seemed untroubled and continued after a sip of tea.

"I suppose if you absolutely must, you can sit across from me. I don't see the logic in them, but habits certainly are habits."

At this, the entire coffee house seemed to fall into the fog that blanketed the city. Her amber eyes finally met his own, and she motioned for him to sit – daring him to, expecting him to sulk away and leave her in peace.

His famous smirk played across his features as he took the seat across from the blonde woman. "Well, what's a morning without a _lovely _young woman to keep me company?" he asked, the sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

Her hand snapped out and Roy felt a sting on his cheek. Before he could take a breath to defend himself, She shook back the sleeve of her blouse to check the time.

"I'll be going, then. I'm sure you want your _precious _seat back, after all. I hope you two are happy together, because that's the only date you'll have if you treat women this way."

Roy scowled as he watched her leave, her pale blue coat visible for several minutes before she finally turned out of view.

The boyish instinct to reclaim his seat was pushed back in his mind, and somehow Roy knew it would never be his again. He didn't even know her _name, _but he knew that she would be back tomorrow, sipping her tea and reading her book, frustrating him even further than she already had.

~.0.~

Ever since he was a young boy, Roy had despised fog. His aunt would chastise him for his close-mindedness, but he knew he was right and she was wrong. When fog rolled in, so did bad luck.

"I'm afraid we didn't get off on the right foot yesterday, sir. My name is Riza."

Oh, yes. He had been wise as a child. Fog brought the worst damn luck possible.

She seemed civil today, but the introduction was forced and he accepted her handshake with his own grimace.

"Roy Mustang."

Riza's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch – the only giveaway of surprise. "The Flame Alchemist?"

"If you have a problem with that, miss-"

"Riza."

"…Riza, I suggest you move somewhere else."

To his amazement, she sat down as if he had just told her he worked as a plumber or a doctor. Never mind that he was a goddamn war hero, or that he had saved hundreds of thousands of lives only a few months ago, she probably didn't even care about his womanizing reputation.

"Did you recently move, Riza?"

She didn't answer, already engrossed in her book.

Roy groaned, weighing out the pros and cons of dumping his coffee on her head.

"You're welcome to sit somewhere else, you know."

Deep in his childish thoughts, Roy almost missed Riza's sharp reminder. Jolting out, he spared her a sickly sweet grin.

She snorted. "I see, then. Well, no move is complete without the bastard that ruins your mornings."

~.0.~

Miraculously, the sarcastic tone in their voices lost its edge eventually, and Roy found himself – quite against his will – growing to like Riza.

It was a rainy morning in early September when he realized it, just as she stood up to leave. Roy didn't want her to _ever _leave, no matter if it had happened every day for the past five months and he hadn't felt a single twitch in all that time.

Roy reached to grab her wrist, but his calloused hand dropped to his side. He would be a coward today and a fool tomorrow.

"Have a good day, Roy."

"Y-you too, Riza."

He wondered if she could hear the stumble in his voice and how foolish he must have sounded if she did. But Riza said nothing further, simply picking up her pale blue coat and walking out of the coffee house. It was almost like déjà vu as he watched her walk away, down the street before turning left and vanishing from sight, but the way she carried herself was different. It was almost as if she had been expecting something.

~.0.~

He wasn't exactly sure what gave him the courage to do it. Riza had just been talking – about nothing in particular, they were both guilty of that – and he had been struck with a _need _to kiss her. It wasn't even a _desire_ anymore (he had been suppressing those for almost a month now), it was a _need. _

So Roy had leaned across the table and interrupted her with a kiss.

The many dangers of his actions occurred to him half of a second too late, and he began to panic just before she began to kiss back.

_I think that possibly_

_Maybe I'm falling for you_

_Yes There's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you_

_I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down_

_I want to come too _

_I think that possibly_

_Maybe I'm falling for you_

**So, yay, fluff! Happy Holidays, everyone! Christmas in four days~ I'm making cooking tomorrow!**

\


	32. Circles

A circle has no start – and more importantly, perhaps, it has no end.

_"The power of one man doesn't amount to much. But, however little strength I'm capable of... I'll do everything humanly possible to protect the people I love, and in turn they'll protect the ones they love. It seems like the least we tiny humans can do for each other."_

They were foolish, they knew that much. Dreams were just that – dreams. Some were not meant to be attained.

"_Will you follow me?"_

"_If that is your wish, then even into hell."_

He didn't know why he asked that. To ask _her _to follow _him_? Ridiculous. He knew that all he had were dreams. She would push him to the top, happy with her quiet victory. He was almost like Black Hayate, under Riza's constant watchful eye. Following her, nothing could go wrong.

"_If you are going to shoot, do it. But what will you do once I'm dead?"_

Her heart was breaking, shattering, her hands were shaking with emotion she couldn't let cloud her judgment. What had happened? She had trusted in his dreams, his goals, and it had all lead to this. She had followed him, watched his back all this time.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to shoot like he had ordered her to. She couldn't be responsible for that, even if a bullet would go into her own head a second later.

Where had he led her?

"_I have no intention of living on alone. After this battle is over, I will erase my life, along with the secret to flame alchemy that's led good men to madness."_

He was broken now. Envy's taunting, Ed's yells, Scar's cold words, they meant little to him. But to hear her say such a thing, only because of his own mistakes -

That broke him. It broke the burning need for revenge that had driven him for much too long.

"_I can't allow that. I'm not losing you too."_

They were following each other, but one is doomed when following that path. All they ever did was walk in circles, going nowhere at all.

"_What a fool I've been. Lower your gun, Lieutenant. I'm sorry."_

**I'm editing, and writing, and drawing, and procrastinating! Yay, snow days!**

**Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think – drop a review, please!**


	33. False Names

**Hey guys! Quick drabble before I'm dead to the world for a week. AVLDPC is coming, I promise!**

She had heard about the death of her older brother – knew it was inevitable, however much it might have hurt that he was dying when she was only just getting the bar out of debt. Perhaps it was for the better (he would only have used her bar as a way to get drunk when he had no money left. Her brother was far beyond rational thought long before he married that innocent little Xingese girl.

So Chris Mustang was not inconsolable when she heard the news, nor did her girls see any difference from the large, intimidating woman's normal demeanor. The events that followed her brother's death held the only time she had cried in front of her girls since she was so deep into debt that she had to let half of them go.

Not only was her brother dead, but his wife was too. "Unknown circumstance" was the paper's report. Suicide was Chris's hunch (though she wished it was not).

They had a son, a scrawny boy of five or six that was told to pack a suitcase and find a place to sleep. After several months, Chris realized that her nephew was _lying _to her. His mother's family was thousands of miles away, and even if he did manage to get to Xing they would only shut the doors in his face.

Begrudgingly, Chris took him in. She found herself worrying about the things he could see in the bar, the stories he could hear not meant for such tender ears. Chris found herself, of all things, worrying about her nephew.

"Let's get a few things very straight, Roy. The outer room is off-limits. If I find you breaking that rule, there's no telling what will happen."

He stared at her, dark eyes swimming with emotion and guilting her even further.

"I don't know what your mother told you, kid, but in this world there really isn't such a thing as love. You might as well get the truth now, before you start to idolize that dead father of yours into some sort of hero. He was a drunk, and he loved the booze more than he loved your mother."

She regretted her tone the second it left her mouth, but shrugged it off. He deserved to know.

"Did my dad love me, Aunt Chris?"

"It's Madame, kid. None of this 'Auntie Chris' stuff," she answered quickly, stalling for time to think about her real answer. "I'm sure he loved you just fine, at least when he was sober."

Roy glanced down at his shoes – _were those ratty things even allowed to be called shoes? She needed to fix that as soon as possible. No charge of hers was going to be wearing those anywhere. _"But you just said…"

"Love doesn't exist, I know. I'm talking about fairy tales here, and wives and real relationships. That love is nothing but infatuation, no matter how long it lasts. Don't come asking for my blessing when you've let the lust get the better of you. I didn't give it to your mother and father, and I won't give it to you."

Flicking open a lighter, she passed it along the end of her cigarette and took a deep puff.

Realizing the conversation was over, Roy slumped his shoulders and shuffled out of the room.

~*Break*~

Years passed, and Chris sent Roy to study under an alchemist (truthfully, the boy wasn't very good, but she wasn't about to crush something that could possibly sustain him later in life). He came home on holidays with messy, stained clothes and a huge grin.

Chris realized something was different when he pulled _two _suitcases off of the train. The girl that followed him off of the train glared and snatched her suitcase away from him, her amber eyes flashing.

"Hi Madame! This is Ri-" Roy paused, looking stricken. "Eloise. She lives in Master Hawkeye's town and she's never ridden on a train anywhere before so I said she could come spend the holiday with us!"

Eloise shrank back behind Roy, her blonde bangs hiding the eye closest to Chris. "I hope that's okay, Madame. Roy said you wouldn't mind."

"We can deal with it," she muttered, shooing the pair out of the train station. "Just remember what I told you about love, Roy."

"She's just my friend!"

~*Break*~

She never saw _Eloise _again, but several years later another blonde teenager arrived on the afternoon express.

"Madame, this is Claudia. She's Master Hawkeye's daughter, and…well, I mean…You heard on the phone about Master Hawkeye, and she needed a place to stay and I remembered that you had an extra bed ever since Leanne left for Creta," Roy stumbled over his words and ran his fingers through his hair, sure signs that he was nervous.

"You remember the talk we had all that time ago, don't you, Roy?"

He scowled. "How could I forget? Besides, she's a friend, Madame."

Cigarette smoke filled the air as Chris sighed. Master Hawkeye's daughter coughed and took a step back, the look in her amber eyes almost one akin to fear.

~*Break*~

"What a lovely young lady you've brought to such a dump like this, Roy-boy. Care to mention her name?"

He paused, swirling his drink. "Elizabeth, and she's my lieutenant, Madame. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

The young blonde woman extended her had towards the surly bar owner. "Hello, Madame."

Chris was curious to see what excuse he would come up with next.

~*Break*~

She didn't see any pretty blonde girls on Roy's arm until after the Promised Day when she finally returned to Amestris.

Surveying the damage done to her establishment, Christmas held her hand out for a lighter.

"Madame, you know what the doctors said."

"Damn the doctors, I need a good smoke right now," she countered, glaring at her unfortunate employee. A strong hand stopped the girl from reaching into her handbag.

"I'd like my foster mother to be able to give me her blessings before she dies, Vanessa. She'll get over the habit."

Chris turned, her face deep in a scowl almost identical to that of her nephew's. "What blessings, Roy? I thought I made it clear when your parents died that I don't do that kind of nonsense."

"I'm asking you to reconsider. I don't care what you think about love, but I'd rather you be present for the people that haven't lost hope about it."

Chris finally glanced at the woman that stood behind Roy. "I'll keep some shred of faith in you, Roy-boy. She does look like a keeper."

"Thank you, Mada-"

"Eloise, isn't it?"


	34. Three Nights

The first night, neither one slept well.

It was what she was used to – what they were used to. She was pressed up against his back, comforted by the sound of his deep, even breathing. No matter which state of consciousness she was in, she watched his back.

The gentle sound of rain lulled them both to sleep quickly, but it seemed only seconds later that he awoke in a panic, the reassuring hand on his shoulder gone. He was foolish not to look towards his back where she had always been before, but somehow he thought it was different now.

In his panicked half-sleep, he thought it had never happened at all. His terror was enough to wake the woman next to him from her peaceful slumber. Her eyes were alert in a second, her calloused hand reaching towards him to comfort the tortured young man.

"It's late. I'm right here, you don't have to worry," she murmured, her hand slipping into his.

He turned to face her, fear still etching the expression on his face. "But what if you weren't?" he asked, almost too soft to hear. His deepest fear.

"You don't have to worry about that anymore."

His hand slipped away from hers, and she felt her heart drop before he clutched her tightly, unwilling to let go.

Eventually they drifted into a fitful slumber, and no one dared question the dark rings under their eyes the next morning.

…

The next night he was careful not to let her watch his back. She was asleep long before he crawled in after her and wrapped his strong arms around her, protecting her from any evils that might come to haunt her.

But this time it was she who woke in a panic, a flash of lightning and dry rumbling of thunder making her mistake his tender embrace for the tight, unforgiving grip on an enemy.

She fought and kicked, a single frightened scream escaping her lips.

"Riza!"

She stopped dead, her imagined attacker all too real but the voice one that she trusted and loved.

"What's wrong?" came the voice again. She felt two hands on her shoulders and flinched away, cradling her head in her hands as if she could pretend the man behind her didn't exist.

"Why are you scared? It's me. You've got nothing to be afraid of anymore."

She turned to face him, her breathing shallow and uneven.

"Roy."

Her voice was a mixture of relief and pain, and she fell into his arms with no more hesitation. He wasn't sure if it had started to rain or not.

He hoped, for her sake, that the rain was just his own as he clutched her to his chest and ran his fingers through her long golden hair.

The muffled sobs gave her away.

…

The third night was different. Her head rested below his chin, her deep, even breaths matching with his heartbeat. He held her close, determined that this once he would be protecting her.

The wind whistled against the window, rattling the class.

Neither of them took any notice.

For the first time in many years, they were both at peace.

**Long time no see, guys…Hehe. Reviews are appreciated very much, and I'll do my very best to start writing again.**


	35. Clouds

She wasn't a woman who would ever admit to being lost in a man's eyes, but she wasn't even lost anymore. There was no hope of escaping him anymore. She was drowning.

Drowning because those eyes she would never admit to looking in to a little _too _long, a little _too _deeply, were empty now. There was no comforting darkness anymore, no mischief or even grim determination. He was right next to her, her hand was on his shoulder, and yet she was farther away from him than she had ever been.

It was supposed to be secret. Riza had almost expected Rebecca to pry deep enough to connect the ill-separated dots, but Rebecca was her best friend.

_No, _she realized. Rebecca was the sister she never had, that mildly irritating woman that she couldn't seem to live without. Childish as the term was, _best friend _was reserved for him.

"This way, sir. We can't be late to your meeting with Fuhrer Grumman," she heard herself say as her hand on his shoulder tightened.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

He sounded almost as distracted as she was. She wished he hadn't been so foolishly stubborn as to insist on starting work as soon as he was discharged. They needed time to think, to absorb it all.

Her neck ached still, and for a brief moment she felt the memory of his strong arms embracing her, the weight of his head on her head as he held her close.

"Lieutenant? Is something the matter?"

"I just wanted to…wish you luck, Colonel."

Her fingers slid off his shoulder, and she felt a heaviness in her heart she couldn't quite explain, as if she was giving him up with that simple motion.

"Luck?"

Roy's eyes focused above her, down the corridor that they had come and at the white noise of the daily life of soldiers. The heaviness in her heart grew as she realized again, for what seemed like the millionth time, that he would never see her again, and she would drown standing so close to him.

"Yes, sir. Luck."

Now the milky gray of his eyes was focused directly on her, and as light and unfamiliar as they were, they were not empty like she had believed for so long. They still held a mischievous glint, even as unfocused as they had become. They were still determined and playful, and though he couldn't see her anymore, she could still read him like an open book.

He bent down, curving his spine so his eyes were level with hers.

"I know, Lieutenant."

An infuriating gentleman, as always. They were inches apart now, and his hands gently brushed over her face as he tried to find her lips.

"Sir, we can't," she murmured, grasping his wrist and gently pushing his hand away. "You know the rules."

Rize placed her hand on his shoulder again, lowering her eyes to the floor to avoid the empty stare. She felt his shoulders slump and could almost hear a silent, knowing sigh of disappointment escape his lips.

"Right as usual, Lieutenant."

The defeated tone of his voice made her heart ache even more. She felt her knees buckle like a schoolgirl, and the hand she had on his shoulder tightened as she tried to regain her balance.

Faster than she could blink, Roy leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek, smirking when he didn't even have to see the blush reddening her cheeks to know it was there.

"Just for a little while, Hawkeye."

He closed the short distance to the door of Grumman's office without her, the sound of his boots echoing in her ears. As he eased the door open with his head held high, Roy glanced back at the exact spot that his lieutenant stood, breathless, trying so hard not submit to the heavy burden of her affections.

Riza watched him and felt her heart flutter as he met her eyes and winked. His eyes were not empty, like she had believed only a few short minutes before. His eyes hardly mattered to her anymore. Soon they could just sit and soak everything up, staring at each other as they tried to understand it all.

_Just for a little while._

**Dedicated to my wonderful Conifer_Short, as it is her birthday today! **

**Interesting story behind this - in her beta comments for AVLDPC, Sun Arose mentioned that the word "eyes" was the most overused word in fanfiction. So what do I do? I proceed to write an entire drabble based on eyes, of course! **


	36. Antebellum

They barely ever fought. Enough fighting had been done already – they hardly needed harsh, bitter words to cover their terrible actions. When they did fight, all their frustration and anger fell onto the other, and his neighbors had to stuff their ears with cotton if they hoped of getting any peace.

Roy couldn't even remember what they had been fighting about as he paused for a split second to breathe. It had to have been important, but what the hell was it?

His reply to her was short and vile (even he was unsure of what he said to her, but regretted it immediately after it passed through his lips), and he saw her take an involuntary step back.

"If that's how you feel sir, then fine."

Riza's voice was emotionless. The single tear that rolled down her cheek went unnoticed by both parties.

"I'll just be going, then."

There were borders, lines that neither of them dared cross. Too close too many times – it was only a matter of time before the legend Edward seemed to enjoy quoting would happen again. Their wings would melt as they passed too close to the sun, and they would plummet to their deaths.

The sound of her shoes echoed in his ears as she left him alone, and he did not try to follow her.

His neighbors heard her shoes as well, and tentatively pulled out one of the cotton balls in their ears. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs poorly muffled by paper thin walls assaulted their open ears before the cotton was stuffed back in hastily. The affairs of the mysterious young military man next door didn't concern them in the least.

Riza's hair was already soaking wet, but she didn't care. She leaned against Roy's building, trying desperately to reign in her emotions and failing again and again with every salty tear that escaped the eyes were so tightly squeezed shut. Shivers ran down of her spine, and Riza regretted not stopping to grab her coat on the way out.

Too late now. He was probably halfway through his third drink and already numb to the evening while she tried to grapple with the conflictions of her head and her heart.

Roy spotted the heavy black coat almost immediately, the one that still smelled faintly of his cologne. She would never admit to anything, but several months ago his overcoat had seemed to shrink over the course of the workday.

The overcoat in his arms was nothing but dead weight, a heavy burden he couldn't bear to put down. A pit of dread in the bottom of his stomach made Roy falter as he turned the doorknob. Shifting the overcoat in his arms, he gathered his courage and stepped over the threshold. Halfway down the stairs he realized he had forgotten his own coat.

It made little difference to him, but it was too late to go back anyway. If he did turn back, his nerve would either be lost or he would give into the temptation of a drink to calm himself.

He nearly passed her by.

Riza was leaning heavily on the wall of his apartment building, her head ducked down and arms folded tightly across her chest. His heart stung as her body shook. She looked so out of place there, so vulnerable.

The faint smell of his cologne blanketed her in warmth, and Riza's head snapped up in surprise, meeting his eyes. She drew the coat closer to herself, half expecting him to leave her alone.

Instead she felt his strong arms wrap around her and hold her tight, and the warm breath of an apology he would never think sufficient near her ear. Startled, it took several seconds for her to return the embrace.

Riza forgave him much too easily, but it was difficult to stay angry when he had mended a broken heart.

_I know the border lines we drew between us_

_Keep the weapons down,_

_Keep the wounded safe;_

_I know our antebellum innocence_

_Was never meant to see the light of our armistice._

_But how much would I give to have it back again?_

_How much did we lose_

_To live this way?_

**Little drabble, as well as an entry into Royai-fiction's contest on DA! I don't know how much sense this makes, but it was written at late hours of the evening. Forgive me. XD **

**I couldn't help putting in the lyrics at the end. Ever since Hayaaaateuh made an AMV to the song for Royai, I've been hooked and bent on writing a drabble. Until now, I've never been able to. Look up Hayaaaateuh on Youtube – she's a stunning talent! Also look up this song – Antebellum, by Vienna Teng. **

**Happy Father's Day!**


	37. Medicine

The sound of raindrops echoed through the small attic, hammering at the broken windowpanes in an effort to break through the splintered wood and cracked glass. Bowls half filled with water were strewn across the floor in an effort to catch each stray drip, creating sounds close to music that echoed through the room.

There were few upsides to rain in the Hawkeye household, but at least it stopped the people in town from glaring at Riza when she walked to school. He knew what they thought of Master Hawkeye's alchemy.

_Witchcraft._

Feverish and exhausted, Roy could barely keep his thoughts straight as the scrawny blonde thirteen year old tried to force medicine down his throat. "No," he managed to mumble, shifting his weight on the thin mattress, making the old maple bedframe groan and complain.

"Come on, Mister Mustang. You'll feel better, I promise."

She sounded so earnest, even through his haze of half-sleep. Still, he waved her off, taking great care not to knock the thick glass bottle out of her hands.

He knew what she paid for that medicine. There was no way he was going to let her waste it on him – he'd recover soon enough anyway, with or without the help of a sticky, bitter purple syrup. Let Riza use what she bought on herself for once – even if it sat on the shelf for a few months before she fell ill. She was sick more often than not.

"I'll…I'll just let you sleep, then."

He was dead to the world before she had the chance to stand up and leave the room. Shyly, she stretched out her hand to brush a few stray hairs from the face of her father's pupil. Sighing quietly, Riza pulled back to cap the medicine and stood up to go make her father's afternoon tea.

She didn't return until long after Roy had woken up.

The nearest drip bowl to the bed was a few mere inches out of comfortable reach, but even that much effort was enough for Roy to try to ignore his pressing thirst.

"Are you awake now, Mister Mustang?"

Roy chose not to answer. He was sixteen – there was no way he needed a tiny little girl to take care of him.

"You know, Father's very disappointed that you're missing lessons today," she continued. Again, no answer. A weight settled on the end of the bed. "You must really be asleep."

He caught himself halfway to a smirk, letting it drop back down into relaxation before Riza looked too closely.

"The people in town are wondering about you, you know. They think you're some child of the devil, sent here to learn witchcraft from my father."

Riza reached up to tug on a braid that used to be there, grasping at air before snapping back to the present. "I forget sometimes that I cut my hair," she whispered, choosing instead to focus her hands on the tarnished silver bangle that danced around on her wrist.

"Do you know what they say about me, Mister Mustang?"

He knew.

~*Break*~

It was almost inevitable that she would fall for him. He had been her knight in shining armor, arriving at her door in a threadbare collared shirt dragging a tattered suitcase behind him.

She didn't speak with him for several weeks, and she was sure that during that time he forgot that Master Hawkeye even had a daughter. Meals appeared at the door of the study whenever the pair seemed to get hungry, and no matter what state Roy left his attic room in, when he came back late at night exhausted from a long day of training, his bed was always made.

Slowly but surely, he coaxed her out of the dark corners of the large house and became the very first person she had ever called a friend. Now, so many years later, he was the only person she could call her best friend.

"You weren't at work today. I'm surprised I didn't have to take you to the hospital, to be honest."

It wasn't as often as it used to be now. Her body had strengthened over the years, and there were even times Riza forgot how it felt to be sick. She certainly knew how it felt now, and losing her voice was only the added bonus.

"Here," he said gently, handing her the mug of tea and sitting down next to her, trying to decide how much honey he needed to drink his own. She nodded and spared him a small smile to show her thanks, waiting until he wasn't looking to tip it into the potted plant next to the couch.

He might have been her best friend, but he couldn't make tea to save his life.

"I brought you something that will make you feel better," Roy stated, reaching into the pocket of the great overcoat he wore. A spoon came out first, and Riza looked over at him with one eyebrow raised.

A thick glass bottle followed the spoon, the thick purple syrup swishing lazily from side to side. Her look of disbelief was even better than Roy had anticipated, and he doubled over in laughter from the shock on her face.

"I promise, Lieutenant, it will make you feel better," he managed eventually, snickering every few words.

Smiling, she took the bottle from his hands and broke the seal, popping the cork out and holding up the spoon level with his eyes. Her smile narrowing into a smirk, she tipped the bottle down and pushed the spoon forward into his open mouth.

Hoarse laughter filled the tiny apartment as the startled man's face twisted in disgust. Her head ached, her body was weak and chilled, but all of it was worth it for the look of disgust on his handsome features.

Suddenly, he leaned in for a kiss.

He pulled away and rested his head on her feverish brow, smirking once again. Blush rose in her cheeks.

"Gotcha."

**For Werehorse89 on Deviantart, who won Royaifanclub's contest! Congrats The order was Royai – and I hope I delivered!**


	38. Due Date

"…and now it would be best to focus on a treaty with Cret-"

"Phone call for you, Brigadier General Mustang."

Interrupted mid-sentence, Roy glared up at the unfortunate secretary. "Can it wait?"

"It's from your wife, sir."

Riza wouldn't call him in a meeting unless something was desperate.

"You're excused, Brigadier General. We will hear your input on the Cretan issue another day," Grumman said, smiling as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you sir," Roy replied, standing to salute the room before rushing out behind the secretary. His stomach twisted and heart thumped in his throat as he was handed the phone. "Riza? What's wrong?"

"_Cool your jets, General. Riza's fine."_

"…Catalina?"

"_Well, I guess she's not exactly fine. Actually, she's probably in pain. But as long as you get your ass down to the hospital this instant, she probably won't hold this against you for too long."_

"What the hell? Is she hurt? What-" the pit in his stomach dropped to the floor, and the secretary next to him might as well have slapped him across the face. She was eight and a half months along now. _Shit. _He wasn't ready for this. Not in the slightest.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he rushed, slamming down the phone before he had finished his sentence. Half-running out the doors of Central Command, he managed to shout something about taking the rest of the day off to the bewildered secretary.

Of course it had to be raining – the ten minutes he had told Rebecca were quickly ticking away, and the traffic was doing little to relax him. Who was going anywhere at two in the afternoon? Fidgeting, he checked his pocketwatch again, as if time would suddenly change its course. Had it really only been four minutes? The nausea and stone pit in his stomach made it feel like much longer.

He burst into the hospital unceremoniously, and he was sure that the people sitting quietly in the waiting room were aghast at the behavior of a Brigadier General. The woman manning the desk looked up in surprise too, and her eyes only widened when she realized who exactly had just barged in.

"Where's my wife?" he demanded, his words a garbled mess. She took an instinctive step back. Roy froze, closed his eyes, and took a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," his tone was gentler and more calm now, but it wavered up and down – a dead giveaway of his nerves. "Would you tell me what room Riza Mustang is in?"

Stunned, the nurse blinked several times before she was able to move. Flustered, she glanced down at the desk and rifled through several papers before finally holding one up and telling him calmly that she was on the third floor and _not to apologize for his behavior because every first time was like this and she was used to it now._

He highly doubted that, but thanked her and shoved his hands in his pockets as he tried to maintain some sort of dignity by actually walking over to the elevator.

When it didn't immediately arrive, he abandoned all the meager dignity he had left and practically ran up the stairs.

"'Bout time, Mustang."

Riza's harpy was even _timing _him. "Is she doing all right? Should I be in there? What do I do?"

"Yes, yes, and what the hell do you think?"

And that's when the realization truly hit him.

_He was going to be a father._

"Well?!" Rebecca demanded, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot, glaring up at her best friend's husband (who had suddenly lost all color in his face and had seemingly ceased to breathe).

"R-right."

It took more time than he would later admit to call up the guts to turn the doorknob and walk into the hospital room.

"Go…away," Riza managed through gritted teeth. "You're supposed to be meeting…with the generals."

Her hand was already crushing his, and he leaned in to brush her bangs out of her eyes and kiss her on the cheek.

"Bastard, think of your responsibilities," she continued, gasping for air.

"I am, Riza. You mean a hell of a lot more to me than a meeting about peace treaties."

~*Break*~

The harsh, wailing cries of a newborn pierced the room, surely echoing into the hallway and the floors above and below.

"…A girl!"

Roy had long lost feeling in his hand, but could still feel a feeble squeeze through the numbness.

"You did it, Riza," he murmured, leaning his head against hers.

"A daughter," she replied breathlessly, her eyes heavy but a bigger smile than Roy had even seen on her face. "We have a daughter."

Seconds later, a nurse with curly brown hair gently set a tiny pink bundle into Riza's arms, then turned to leave the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Hello, Clara," Riza cooed, pulling the red-faced newborn closer to her chest.

"She's perfect," Roy whispered, stroking her cheek with a calloused thumb. "Clara Elizabeth Mustang."

In no time at all, the tiny family was sound asleep.

~*Break*~

Her arms were empty when she woke up, but she didn't panic for more than a second – the shadowy figure by the window was unmistakable, and Roy's chair was vacant as well. The gentle hum of an old lullaby filled the room as her husband rocked back and forth gently, pausing once to softly kiss the wispy black hair on Clara's head.

A soft knock on the door stopped the lullaby, and somehow the squeak of the hinges as a doctor eased it open a few seconds later gave Riza chills down her spine.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Riza's heart lept to her throat, pounding against her windpipe and choking the air out.

"What?" she heard Roy say, confusion and worry laced into his voice, dread dripping from the single word like poison.

"We performed the tests while you were asleep, and I'm here to inform you that your daughter is blind."

Blind.

_Blind._

It wasn't possible. She looked up at Roy, who clutched Clara tighter and met her eyes. Terror and guilt had painted the expression on his face – _damn fool, he blamed himself for this. Him, the scientist, who knew fully well it wasn't his fault in the slightest. _

"On the bright side, she's completely healthy otherwise. Her sight hasn't impacted any other part of her, as far as we can tell at the moment."

"You're absolutely sure?" Roy muttered, glancing down at the tiny infant.

"Yes."

The door sqeaked open again, and the family was once again alone in the room. Roy sat on the edge of the bed, carefully setting Clara in Riza's arms.

"It doesn't matter," she managed finally, hating the way her voice couldn't stay steady and how vision blurred. "She's still beautiful."

"Yes," he whispered, his voice cracking, "She's still perfect."

**And you thought this was going to be lighthearted.**

**Ha.**

**Gah what am I writing**

**It's two am**

**I don't even know **

**I was just rereading Silence of the Sound by ForeverSam and then THIS and I can only hope that they're in character. Because I sure don't know at this point. I just know that I love this ship more than dairy products and maybe even more than English muffins. And that's a whole lot of love right there. Because I really really love English muffins.**

**More Clara to come. Yup. More Clara. Because I just have a lot of feelings about this girl and she's blind and that really wrecked her parents emotionally for a while. **

**Just think about it. Seriously, you're probably cursing me or rolling your eyes or something about how stupid this is, and how it would never happen, but it **_**does **_**happen. And what if it did happen to baby Clara? **


	39. Beauty

He had only ever liked the pretty girls anyway.

There hadn't been much time for beauty in the Hawkeye house. As Riza remembered it, her father had barely bothered to tie his hair back when he left the house, and her mother was little more than memories by the time Riza would have followed her example.

At eight, Riza cut her hair, the same hair her mother used to carefully plait every morning and brush every evening. No matter how hard she tried, her braids never looked as pretty as her mother used to make them, and her father was even worse at it than she was. She finally gave up and cut it all off, choking back the tears she didn't know would come.

At eleven, _he _came, and she immediately wished she didn't look so boyish. Her blonde hair was still short, and she had given up on keeping her dresses clean. He commented about how pretty her hair was once, questioning why she didn't grow it out like a _normal _girl. She tried to hide her face by turning away, but he read her like an open book.

He began sweet-talking the girls in town a few years later, tucking their hair behind their ears and smirking when they leaned in for a kiss. Her hair was too short for him to tuck behind her ears. Part of her was relieved (there was no telling what her father would do if she was anything more than friends with the apprentice), but envy rooted itself deep into her chest, making it ache every time she saw him.

Riza remembered sitting on her mother's lap in front of the old, worn out vanity and watching as she brushed through her hair every morning and pulled it back so it wouldn't get in the way during the day. The vanity was up in the attic, rotting away with the rest of her mother's things. In the year after her mother's death, she would sneak up there and pretend her mother was still alive, brushing her fingertips lightly on the combs and hairpins still in perfect order and trying desperately to remember what exactly her mother used them for.

Even into her teenage years she would sit up there to ensure she was truly alone and stare at her reflection wishing desperately to be as pretty as her mother. She knew it was an empty wish, a selfish one – even a useless one, but she couldn't stop herself from wanting his head to turn for _her._

Roy left all too soon, and any future of beauty was discarded. If high collars went out of style, Riza would have to sew them on herself now. There was no way she would ever let anyone see her back again. Her last dreams of beauty, weak and fragile, were shattered.

If the military did anything for her, it made her less envious of beauty. Beauty didn't save you on the battlefield.

Besides, after Ishval her hands were too bloodstained to ever come clean again. She grew her hair again, doubted herself, and cut it off. After the Elric fiasco, she finally let it grow again. Maybe that little girl in Resembool changed her – she wasn't really sure, no matter what she told Rebecca.

She caught the Colonel looking a few times, a faraway, dreamy expression dancing across his face. Of course, he wasn't looking at _her. _She was his lieutenant – he was her commanding officer. It would be improper. (It didn't stop her from her selfish thoughts, and she often caught herself looking a little too long as he ran his fingers through his hair and furrowed his brow, deep in thought.)

Yes, he had only ever liked the pretty girls.

But comforted by his strong arms, her eyes glancing over the golden ring she wore on her left hand, she was content to believe that he had only ever loved _her. _

**Because the world needs more sappy, OOC Royai. **


	40. Good Evening

She had to be here, but he couldn't find her anywhere. On evenings as clear as tonight, he could always find her here walking Hayate, or even sitting on one of the benches lining the path, tossing a ball to the canine in between chapters of a titleless paperback.

He found her in a corner of the park so dark it was devoid of any shadows.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," he muttered, shoving his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. His eyes roamed from her face to the sky, trying desperately to force down the lump in his throat.

It took her several seconds to respond.

"Good evening, Colonel," she replied, her voice tiny and broken. Chills ran down his spine as he flashed back to when he last heard her voice as helpless as it was now.

"Rainy tonight, isn't it?"

"So it is."

Roy grimaced, taking a seat next to her. Riza straightened, wiping her face before placing her hand on the bench on top of his. He could feel the tears soaking through his glove, winced, and remained silent.

"It's not safe to talk, Colonel," she whispered finally, clutching his hand desperately. She buried her face in his shoulder, and Roy felt the rain hit his cheeks too.

"You're strong, Riza."

"Strength isn't enough," came the muffled reply.

**I am sick and convinced myself that staying up until midnight was a good idea.**

**Law and Order SVU is the most addicting show ever. **

**Gah **

**I make no sense. **


	41. In Another World

**Well guys, my first Shamballa-verse fic! I'm not so into the first anime, but who can resist alter!Royai? This takes place in the 1930s, in America. Roy and Riza are younger than their Amestrian counterparts, by the way.**

There was more in the papers every day about Germany. News had even penetrated the shroud of the depression at this point, and rumor had it that even President Roosevelt was getting nervous. Al's Chinese girlfriend – a tiny girl named Mei - swore she had escaped hell in the east as well.

Ed's yearning for Amestris had never been stronger, but over a decade had passed since the Shamballa incident and he certainly was _not _ready for a repeat of that. No matter – whatever happened, he and Al could get through it together.

"Come on, Al! Hurry up!"

Exasperated, Ed stopped at turned, ready to snatch his brother's collar and drag him off. "What's the holdup, Al? We're going to be late if you keep stalling like this."

"I'll catch up, brother!"

A few seconds later, Al emerged from a nearby alley balancing a large, rotting box with his left arm. Ed's heart fell when he realized what was almost certainly in it.

"Al, the landlord said no."

"But just for a few-"

"I'm sorry, Al. Besides, we can barely feed ourselves."

Crestfallen, Al took a last, sorrowful look at the tiny furball inside.

"Come on, we're going to be late."

~*Break*~

They relied on each other for support on the way home as they fought desperately to stay awake. Work was hard, nigh impossible, to find these days, and they were certainly grateful they had work, but that didn't mean they liked it.

It didn't take much to knock them both over, and a child barreling down the sidewalk as fast as she could was a candidate.

"Catherine, wait for us!"

After blinking several times to rid himself of the dizziness, Ed focused his attention on the culprit – a girl no more than thirteen with long, dark hair and startled, familiar black eyes. "Oops," she squeaked, jumping to her feet and shoving a slim hand in Ed's face. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," muttered Ed, waving her hand away and brushing himself off.

"Catherine, you can't keep running off like that. The city's not safe this time of day, and god forbid-"

If they had not already been on the ground, the sound of the voice would have knocked them down. They didn't even need to look up to know who that would be.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" marveled Al.

The mother paused in her lecture and turned, startled, to look at the brothers. "Beg your pardon?"

Al realized his mistake a second too late, and a red blush crept onto his cheeks as he muttered some sort of excuse.

It only took another second to notice Mustang behind her next to a tall young man with the same bemused smirk and messy dark hair.

"I'm sorry about bumping into you," the girl muttered, ducking her head away from her mother and staring intently at the spidery cracks in the sidewalk.

Still overwhelmed, Ed and Al merely stared back open-mouthed, trying to process what they were seeing. True, the Colonel didn't have his eyepatch, and Hawkeye's hair was longer and curlier, and they both lacked a burden on their shoulders, but there was no doubting who had just crashed into them.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," managed Al several seconds later, pulling himself to his feet. The relief was clear on Riza's face. "Are you…new in town?"

Ed placed a hand on Al's shoulder, a silent warning. He had done the same thing when Al had met Gracia and Maes in Germany so long ago, but Al couldn't help it. The simple golden band around Hawkeye's left ring finger made him slightly giddy.

"Yes, we're from Eston. My name is Elizabeth, this is my daughter Catherine, my son Maes, and my husband, Roy."

"Edward and Alphonse Elric," Al replied, beaming. "Isn't Eston a big military base down south?"

"The army moved us up here for…" Mustang started, trailing off when he couldn't figure out how to finish. Nobody needed to hear the end of that sentence, let alone the military man himself.

There was a short, heavy pause where no one could put their thoughts into words. Even in this world, Hawkeye's stare was binding.

"Do we know each other?"

The brothers froze.

"No!" the protested in unison, stretching fake grins across their stricken faces.

Hawkeye shrugged, struggling to keep a bemused smile off her face. Ed was suddenly struck by how young and carefree she and Mustang seemed – even in the midst of the deepest depression the world had ever seen. There was no haunted look behind their eyes – no guilt for atrocities their parallels had committed.

None of that.

"Well, then, hope we'll see you around," Mustang said, tipping his hat, "If we talk much longer we'll be late for an engagement."

Al managed a civil reply, waving goodbye to Catherine as she skipped down the sidewalk after her parents and brother.

Roy drew her close as they walked away, turning his head and whispering in her ear. She laughed and kissed him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"They sure are happy, aren't they, brother?" marveled Al, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah," muttered Ed, finding himself smiling too.


	42. Frozen Bridges

The gentle thud of the front door echoed in his ears, and Roy looked up, startled. Master Hawkeye was up in his study, and Riza had left for school a half hour ago. "Hello?" he called nervously, half expecting some idiot teenager to pop up and run out, a dare finished.

The soft padding of footsteps gave Riza away long before she could get to the kitchen. She set her bookbag down in the basket and shrugged off her old coat, staring intently at her shoes. "Hello, Mr. Mustang," she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear and pulling down the sleeves of her sweater. "Sorry to bother you. Please go back to reading, Mr. Mustang. Don't get in trouble on my behalf."

"Why aren't you at school?" he asked, worried. Riza hunched her shoulders further and shuffled towards the kitchen, shaking her head. She always tried so hard not to worry him, covering the loneliness with a quiet smile. She wasn't even trying to mask her body language today, and that terrified Roy.

"Riza, why aren't you at school?" he repeated, grabbing her wrist. Even through the thick woolen sweater, he could tell that she was shaking. Somehow he doubted it was from the winter weather. She didn't answer, forcing her thin wrist out of his grasp.

"Riza," he warned, following her to the kitchen. She was a tiny fifteen year old, still unable to reach the high cabinets in the house.

"The bridge was frozen," she lied at last, striking a match to light the stove. Her eyes were still firmly on her feet, though now old beige stockings covered them instead of shoes. "No one's getting to the east part of town without a broken neck."

"The bridge was frozen yesterday too, and you got over it just fine," he argued, grabbing her favorite tea. "You're not getting this until you tell me what really happened."

She only rolled her eyes and threw the matches back in the drawer. "If you think that holding a tea against me is going to make me spill my guts, Mr. Mustang, you're dead wrong."

"Come on, Riza."

She shook her head and hunched over the stove. "No," she muttered, her thin frame shaking. He placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face him.

He scowled, turning her head side to side. Riza slapped his hand away and turned back to the stove. "Keep this up and you're not getting any lunch, Mr. Mustang."

"I don't care," he protested, leaning in close. "I care about you, Riza. If there's something happening you should tell me. I can help you."

A nervous warmth blossomed in her chest and Riza almost pushed up her sleeves to reveal the bruises from the neighbor boys. She nearly looked him in the eye and told him everything the girls at school whispered about the Hawkeye house when they thought she wasn't looking. She was so close to lifting up her blouse and exposing her back to him, seconds away from telling him everything.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Mr. Mustang. I do not need any help in my personal affairs."

Riza desperately hoped that one day she'd actually be telling him the truth.

**I'm actually being productive. This is a first.**


	43. Empty

He would never admit to it. If asked, Roy had the perfect excuse for it, though he hoped he'd never be recognized there. Something, though, about the toll of the bells piercing through the silent morning air of the city drew him in, and it had become some sort of odd tradition.

No, he wouldn't admit the comfort he found in the voices and the silence, sitting next to strangers who had probably seen him in the newspapers many times before. After all, he was an alchemist. There was no God. He himself had seen the closest thing to God there was.

Nevertheless, one day of each year, he found himself at the back of a church, brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes as he listened to the priest talk about empty things likeredemption and forgiveness.

Roy saw her there too.

Every year, without fail, in the same red sweater and green skirt. Riza, unlike him, sat in the pews and listened, her amber eyes a little more haunted than usual. At the end of the services, she would sit until the church was almost empty, staring down at her hands as she clasped them together as if in deep prayer.

He set a gloved hand on her shoulder before her resolve shattered. His lieutenant looked up at him and smiled softly, nodding before rising to her feet. Her shoes echoed through the building as they left together, Roy's arm wrapped around her shoulder protectively.

It wasn't like she needed to be taken care of. Riza Hawkeye was a strong, independent woman who had saved his ass many more times than he had saved hers. Nevertheless, he did not drop his arm.

The words of the priest continued to echo in his ears through the silent walk through the city's largest park, and he draped his coat around her shoulders absentmindedly. It wasn't like she didn't already have a coat, but somehow he couldn't stop himself from doing it.

Riza kept his coat on, lifting his arm from around her shoulder and intertwining their fingers instead. Snow drifted lazily downward in large, fluffy puffs, and a few children danced and screamed as they rolled large snowballs together to make a lopsided snowman.

Roy lingered briefly to watch the children play, continuing their stroll when she touched his sleeve lightly.

They made a wide berth around headquarters, careful to stay a street away from popular hangouts. The press would have a field day if they saw a colonel and his lieutenant holding hands, and that wasn't even the worst thing that would stem from carelessness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the gentle wind, looking straight ahead and pulling her closer. He felt her exhale before replying.

"What is an apology worth, sir?'" she murmured, quiet and forgiving. "Especially to me."

He knew its value. Sorry was an empty word, like the promises the priest made to the people who so desperately craved heaven. Sorry had long lost its worth.

And yet he held her close with his bloodstained hands, knowing full that this tiny happiness was undeserved in all the evil he had done. He was selfish on Christmas.

**As I said on tumblr, it is never too early for Christmas Royai. I know that Amestris doesn't have Christmas – call this an AU if you're bothered by it. **

**It's also on my tumblr, Jingledoodles.**


	44. Gloves

The scream of a dying person is one of the most bitter, haunting things that a human can hear.

Roy Mustang fell to the ground in a silent, slow tumble, blood leaking from the gunshot through his chest. It was supposed to have been a low level threat – nothing his team couldn't handle, didn't handle on a monthly basis.

Another gunshot rang out and embedded itself again in the Colonel's chest, silencing him permanently. For a few, long seconds the world seemed to stop as Riza Hawkeye dived to cradle his limp frame. Tears streamed from her eyes, and short, choked sobs shook her frame. With what must have been his final ounce of strength, Roy lifted his had to the woman's wet cheek and shook his head once.

If there was anything he had said to her, his lips were too bloody and spectators too far away to know. The last words of Roy Mustang would remain a mystery to all but one.

Another gunshot ran out, this time from a friendlier gun. A corpse tumbled from the roof of a nearby building, and Kain Fuery wiped his eyes free of tears. Breda, too, was crying as he nodded, verifying the identity of the suspect.

A few men came charging out of the same building, cocking their guns and managing to raise them to eye level at the subordinates of Colonel Roy Mustang before a telltale _snap _echoed in their ears. They were dead before the flames ebbed away. Fuery and Breda felt their spirits rise and looked over to where their superior had fallen.

Riza Hawkeye's expression was hard and emotionless despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Ill-fitting white gloves covered her hands, and the team looked on in disbelief. If Hawkeye had the ability to use alchemy, and she had been hiding it from everyone for all this time, _what else could she do?_

She refused to be separated from the body, holding his hands tightly as she started to feel more and more hopeless. It had been her job to protect him, and she had failed. She had been so intent on watching his back that the threats from the front had escaped her notice.

What a fool she was.

"Lieutenant, we need to go back now," Breda said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Come on."

She only shook her head, long blonde hair covering her face and concealing her emotion.

A young man Riza was unfamiliar with pried her hands from the body gently, and Fuery took her arm to lift her up to standing. Nothing but dead weight on their arms, it took all of their strength to move her a few feet from the body.

"Give me one more minute, boys," she whispered. "I just need one more."

They relented, and watched her take unsure steps toward the white sheet that now covered their commanding officer. Collapsing back to her knees, she folded it down to reveal his face and ran her fingers through his hair one last time, touching her lips to his forehead gently, as one would for a small child afraid of the dark. The medic asked her something, and she nodded her head before pushing herself up.

"I'm going home," she murmured as she walked past. It was a statement, much too full of confidence for Riza Hawkeye to possess.

"Wait, Lieutenant Hawkeye, I'm coming with you!" Fuery piped up, grabbing her forearm. Startled, she shook herself free.

"That's not necessary, Master Sergeant."

Fuery steeled his nerves, hoping he wouldn't end up on the receiving end of her bad temper. "Colonel Mustang would never forgive us if something happened to you, Lieutenant. It's our duty."

She stood there for far too long, blank-faced and rigid. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded and continued to walk.

Kain stayed a step behind her. She didn't want him here, but he was determined to keep her safe - even from herself.

"I-I'm going to call Rebecca," Riza said quietly, shutting the door behind them. Fuery barely even registered the comment, and stood by the door, unsure exactly of what to do. Catalina was probably more prepared to handle this situation anyways, but he would do his duty until she arrived.

He couldn't help but notice the sparsity of the front room - a tiny kitchen off to the side, an old coach against a wall. Besides a few photographs on the endtables, the room was almost completely bare.

Three photographs. One of a young with long, wavy blonde hair and eyes like Riza's, another of Riza and Rebecca, and a the final – smallest – of a young, teenage Riza laughing with a slightly older dark-haired boy. Fuery recognized him immediately as Colonel Mustang.

Sure enough, Rebecca didn't even bother knocking when she arrived ten minutes later.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she cried, embracing Riza tightly and rocking her back and forth. "You just let it all out."

Taking this as his queue to leave, Fuery closed the door of the apartment behind him.

~*Break*~

She was able to climb the ranks quickly after that. With knowledge of alchemy, strategy, and no longer tied to a promise, it was difficult for the team to keep up with the promotions Riza kept receiving.

Cameras surrounded the small sitting room that the Fuhrer had chosen to have her first interview. The first elected woman in office, she was a celebrity to the people of Amestris, and the reporter lucky enough to hold the interview was quite certain she would be in a stable job for the rest of her life.

"Ma'am, now that we've been over political and economic designs, I'd like to ask you some personal questions, if that's all right."

The older woman nodded, smiling softly. "Ask away."

"One of your biggest competitors for the title argued that you would never be able to sympathize with the families of Amestris, since you have never had one yourself. Was there ever a time you did want to be a wife and mother?"

Surprised, her eyes widened. Personal questions, indeed. "Yes," Riza said, "Especially when I was a teenager. When I joined the military, I realized it was impossible for me."

"Then did you ever fall in love?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and memories came flooding back to her. "Yes," she replied, fighting the butterflies in her stomach. "But he's been dead for many years."

The reporter stopped writing and looked up at the most powerful woman in Amestris, obviously having expected another answer entirely. The Fuhrer's bodyguards each put a comforting hand on her shoulder, also close to tears.

"I know you have more questions," said Riza quietly, "I'm not so overcome with grief that I have to excuse myself. It's been a long time, after all."

The brunette nodded quickly, glancing down at her notepad. "Please don't answer this if it's too personal, Fuhrer Hawkeye, but when the former Flame Alchemist was shot down, everyone was curious to know his last words, especially when you wouldn't disclose them at the time. Would you be comfortable disclosing them now?"

Tears gathered and Riza was unable to blink them away. "Yes, I can," she murmured sadly, looking down at her hands and knowing that a certain pair of gloves were tucked away in her pockets. "He told me, _Don't give up, Riza. I love you."_

She didn't say that the scream that day way hers.

**Whut I wrote a drabble**

**I'm being productive yay? Except on the wrong things whoops. **


	45. Soup

Tapping the thermometer against her finger, the nurse grimaced. Her eyes looked on the shivering woman lying in the hospital bed with nothing but pity and sympathy, though the occupants of the room were unable to see it.

"Looks like you've got a fever," she said, sighing. "Are you nauseous?"

Eyes shut tight, Riza nodded, loathing how pitiful she appeared.

"There's a strain of flu going around right now, so you probably picked it up before your neck was sliced open," continued the nurse, glancing at her watch and biting her lip. "I'll be back to check up on you soon, but try to have some soup. If you do throw up, it's better to do it with something in your stomach."

Riza nodded again, drawing the blanket around her tighter. Her stomach turned cartwheels and the soft clicks of the nurse's heels became more and more faint. She hadn't been this sick in years, but she was only grateful that it hadn't struck her a few days earlier. Unfortunately, that meant that both the outside and inside of her neck was sore.

"Lieutenant, I know you're not eating."

Somehow it didn't surprise her that Roy had been awake through the conversation. Managing a grunt in reply, Riza cracked one eye open to look at her commanding officer. Leaning against the backboard, he stared straight ahead with sightless, milky eyes. (Riza wondered briefly when he had gone from lying to sitting, especially since the nurse had mistaken him for asleep)

"I can relate," he chuckled, a good-natured smile gracing his features. It had been a long time since she had seen him so truly at ease, without any façade to cover the guilt underneath. "But you should eat, Riza."

Slowly, she pulled herself into a sitting position, rocked by a severe wave of nausea. Hospital food was unappetizing on the best of occasions – with her stomach, she doubted any of it would stay down for long. She managed to raise her spoon halfway to her mouth before gagging and dropping it back in the broth.

"I'm not hungry," she whispered, her voice raspy. It wasn't a lie – she hadn't eaten since the night before, but her stomach refused to settle long enough to swallow anything.

The bed beside her creaked and groaned, and Riza turned toward it in surprise. Now standing, Roy ran his fingers along the flimsy table by his bed and took a hesitant step forward, reaching out and grasping nothing but air.

"Sir!" she protested as loudly as she could, extending her hand for him to grasp.

"I'm blind, Lieutenant, not crippled," he said, sitting down on her bed and squeezing her hand slightly before releasing it. She glanced down at her fingers, surprised with the warmth that had suddenly left them. His fingertips were familiar, of course – they had more than enough opportunities to brush hands in their relationship – but the rough bandages that swathed his palms were unfamiliar.

He felt around gently, over her leg and up its side, too high then too low, until one hand found the soup and the other found her face. "Last chance, Riza. "

Last chance was too late. Fingers curled loosely around the spoon to avoid aggravating the wound, Roy brought the spoon up to her mouth slowly, looking immensely pleased with himself when she swallowed.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked jokingly, bringing the spoon back down and missing the soup bowl entirely. He scowled and lifted the spoon up and back down, hoping to find the bowl. "Damn it."

"I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Roy," Riza said quietly, guiding his hand over to the bowl. The soup, admittedly, could have been a whole lot worse than it was, though her stomach seemed to delight in having something to chuck back up in a few mintues.

He shook his head, bringing the spoon up to her mouth again. "You haven't fed yourself since yesterday morning, unless you snuck out in the middle of the night without me, and I think we both know the probability of that happening."

Their progress was painfully slow, and Riza was careful not to mention the many times he misjudged the distance, spilling lukewarm chicken broth all over the thin blankets or wetting her nose and cheeks with it. Her stomach churned, but the soup stayed down, and the bowl became empty.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She sighed, smiling softy. Realizing he couldn't see it, the smile dropped back into her usual stoicism, and her heart sunk. She brushed her hand against his, scared to take it and lace her fingers with his. Surely the nurse would come back soon – this quiet peace couldn't last forever. There was no doubt she was still ill, and the aching of her neck and pounding headache reinforced it.

Riza Hawkeye didn't need to be taken care of. She was the caretaker – the aide, the woman who had pledged to watch his back into hell if need be. Roy was blind now, and certainly that meant that she should be reassuring him that everything was going to turn out all right? The good spirits of the man confused her to no end, not unlike his usual self.

His boyish grin convinced her otherwise, brow relaxed and face free of premature worry lines. To keep the burdens of the past away, she would stay sick just a little longer.

**As per usual, I have absolutely no idea what I'm writing and I need to be productive on other things. **

**Whee?**


	46. Casual Conversation

The small study is eerily quiet as Roy Mustang creaks the door open. The smell of old books and gunpowder fills his nose, and Roy resists the urge to turn one of the old kerosene lamps scattered haphazardly around the room. Somehow he has a hunch it would not end well – the lamps are coated in a thin layer of dust, and spiders enjoy dangling cobwebs from them.

Even in the middle of the day, the study is dark and gloomy, with long shadows cast where light leaks through the heavy velvet curtains that cover the sole window. The books, too, seem unused as he squints at their titles. A good number of them do not have anything to do with alchemy at all – only trivial things like lamps and matches. Master Hawkeye was certainly an odd man, even if his short temper and weak frame hid a brilliant mind. Roy wonders what else he would have expected from his alchemy teacher.

His back is toward the door when it again eases open and a young girl stands frozen in its frame. Realizing his error, Roy curses quietly and shoves the book in his hands back on the shelf, scrambling an apology.

She merely stands there, white as a ghost, clutching the old fashioned feather duster in her hands until her knuckles went white. What was her name again? Riza? Roy loathes his uncertainty but doubts he will get any response if he asks – he has lived with the Hawkeyes for six months and she has never spoken a word.

Master Hawkeye said she stopped talking when her mother died – Roy reckons that Master Hawkeye did as well until hunger pried his lips open.

"I'm going," he murmurs, raising his palms in defeat and passing her on the way out. "Sorry."

Riza does not move until he is up the stairs, spooked by her close encounter with the apprentice. She dashes inside. He hears her sneezes from his attic bedroom and tries desperately to block them from his mind. She is so tiny and frail that each step he is scared she will fall and break.

With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Roy realizes that she _could _break.

When hunger opened Master Hawkeye's mouth, it opened it in a yell. There is no time that Master Hawkeye is not harsh and demanding – especially of his daughter. She does not have a friend – she is alone – and someday, the loneliness will be too much for her.

Roy knows. Madame tried valiantly to hide the sister that slit her wrists last year – but Roy still sees Marie's limp frame slumped in the bathtub in his nightmares, crimson dripping down the tips of her fingers onto the dirty white tile. In a whirl, the long, dark hair is replaced by short, blond curls.

He saunters down the stairs, but his hands are shaking from the vision behind his eyes. Riza is only ten, and she is a girl, but he will find something to talk about with her. He will show her that she is anything but alone, and Riza will never end up like Marie.

The door of the study creaks open, and Roy leans against the frame in what he hopes is laid-back and cool.

"You're Riza, right?" he asks quietly, hoping not to startle her.

Her back turned to him, she nods and lets the duster drop to her side.

"I don't really know you that well," Roy continues, the nervous beating of his heart so loud he is quite positive Riza can hear it.

This time she shrugs, turning around to look him in the eye before casting her eyes down to her threadbare stockings. Roy cannot tell if this is progress or not, but keeps talking anyway.

He tells her everything he can think of, from alchemy to politics to the weather, asking her questions he knows she will not answer. Riza merely stands in the same spot, bewildered at the sudden attention.

She is grateful.

The sound of the front door creaking open downstairs is sudden and unwelcome, and Roy quickly ends his thought, grabs Riza's wrist, and flees the study to the relative safety of the attic. Master Hawkeye's rage is all too easy to sense – he has been drinking again, and Riza fights back terrified tears.

"Don't worry, Riza," he whispers gently as he reaches an arm around her. "It's going to be okay."

Again it strikes him how tiny and frail she is, the deep mahogany eyes staring up at him too old for the young face.

Much to his shock, she opens her mouth to reply.

"I'm used to it."

The voice is tiny and creaky, as if rusty from underuse, but Roy is glad to hear it. He pulls her closer and waits for the door to Master Hawkeye's room to slam shut like it always does when he drinks. He is powerless, and he hates it. All he can give Riza are empty words – he knows that if Master Hawkeye were to climb the stairs he would be pushed aside in an instant.

The door slams, and they exhale in unison. "Maybe you should stay up here tonight," he offers, opening the door to his room. She nods, but he knows this is where she comes. Last month, he stumbled over her in the middle of the night when she curled up in the hallway, robbed of her usual hiding place.

When he woke up in the morning, Riza was not under his arm like she had been when they fell asleep. The muffled clattering of pans in the kitchen was distant but comforting.

There is a hard, uncomfortable lump under his arm.

It is the book he had started to read the day before.


	47. Mother

She forgets sometimes how wealthy he really is, living in a small studio apartment with nothing but a bed and a cheap radio.

A few months after they marry, he disappears after work for hours on end, all the while tossing quick excuses her way to curb her curiosity. It is enough for her (after all, what reason could he ever have for being unfaithful?).

Weeks pass and Riza falls ill. In an attempt to ignore it, she goes into work like normal and throws up twenty steps past the door. Before she can lift a finger to help the poor secretary clean it up, Roy is next to her, crunting as he lifts his wife over his shoulder and carries her to the car. She protests weakly all the way to the doctor's office, but somehow he doubts the dinner of Xingese takeout they had the night before was to blame.

When she opens the door and cups his face in her hands, she leans in with an excited, nervous smile and whispers in his ear.

He stops dead and the nervous butterflies in his stomach take the opportunity to multiply tenfold. As the final word sinks in, a good-natured grin spreads across his face and he twirls her around a few times before sweeping down for a quick kiss. Military regulations for marriage were still tight, after all.

The doctor has ordered her to stay home until the morning sickness subsides.

Two days in, she begins to notice the paint peeling off of the walls and the holes in the couch cushions. It has never mattered to them – home has never been a word of comfort, a place for life. In all reality, she doubt either of them have had a home in many years.

Her hand strays to her stomach. This had suited them, but it wasn't just them anymore.

Roy comes home late that night, far after she had fallen into a restless slumber on the couch. Strong, gentle hands carry her sleeping form the short distance to the rickety old double bed and draw the blankets up to her chin. His weight on the other side of the bed makes it creak and groan, and sleep manages to elude him once again. The strong, gentle hands he wrings together are the hands of a murderer and he knows fully well he is in no condition to be a father.

But he's damn well going to try.

Months pass and Riza's stomach grows larger and larger. He asks her puzzling questions she doesn't know the answer to concerning colors and dreams. Much to her annoyance, he insists one day on driving, citing some foolish reason like her swollen feet. She begins to worry for his sanity when he turns left instead of right on the way out of military headquarters.

It finally pieces together when he stops in front of a cozy two-story brick house with a sold sign in the front yard.

**Happy Mother's Day! I still exist!**


	48. Fog

Night settled in on Central City, blanketing the world in a thick, heavy fog. A lonely lamplighter wandered down the streets, his steps slow and muffled as he tried to find his way home. In a side alley not far from the poor man, a door creaked open, the soft glow of the light and sound within all but nonexistent to anyone just a few yards away. The door closed with a gentle thump, and the city was forgotten to a rowdy bar and its many patrons.

Even on a weeknight, Christmas' bar was packed. Large men with flushed faces and bad judgment were aplenty, falling out of their chairs in misguided attempts to woo the pretty ladies behind the bar. The young woman that had just entered went unbothered, pretty enough to attract attention but cold enough that even the men who would not remember anything the next morning dared not approach her.

"It's not like you to be late," Madame said as Riza entered her office, a corner of her lip twitching up.

"Hayate was making a ruckus. It took a while to calm him down."

Christmas raised an eyebrow, bringing another cigarette to her lips and searching her desk for a lighter. "You'd do well to listen to that dog. It's smart."

Riza nodded and put her hand in her pocket, drawing out her own lighter to hand to the older woman. "I suppose you're right."

"You take up smoking lately, little lady?"

She sighed. "Havoc's put me off of that for life. I keep this one on me in case of another incident like Isaac's. Never know when it's going to rain, after all."

"You take far too much out of yourself to care for Roy-boy. He's going to burn you out eventually," Christmas replied, her voice gravelly as smoke slipped lazily between her lips, rolling up to join the haze that deadened the office almost as much as the fog outside.

"I'll be fine, Madame. It's a give and take relationship."

"Twelve years and I still have to tell you it's Chris to family. You might be a good soldier, but you've got a bad memory, Riza Hawkeye," grunted Chris, tossing the lighter back.

"Soon, Madame," Riza said softly, looking down at her hands.

Chris puckered her lips. "Not soon enough. Any news?"

"Nothing since the line last week."

The widening in Chris' eyes was barely noticeable, but Riza knew her too well. Plans had been changing almost daily up until this point, people being shuffled back and forth as strategy was laid out, scratched, and rewritten. "Then we're getting close, aren't we?"

"Very."

A gloved hand reached for the amber bottle in the corner of the desk, and Chris took the time to pour herself a healthy shot of the liquor before continuing the conversation.

"I'm trusting you, Riza. Both of you better get out of this one alive."

"I can't say that we will, Madame."

"Positive thinking, my dear. I'd like to live to see a few little ones with your eyes and his smile. I won't live forever, you know," Chris said, smashing the cigarette butt in her ashtray and pulling another from the pack.

Riza felt a lump grow in her throat. Children were hardly an option for people like the Colonel and herself, but Chris had been pushing for over a decade and it didn't look like she would ever let up. "It's going to be a while yet."

The older woman grunted, displeased with the reply as always. "Won't be long now until the big man upstairs knocks on my door."

"He might wait a few more years if you quit smoking."

"No chance, missy. Life's biggest pleasures are booze, tobacco, and watching the little shit I raised undress you with his eyes while he eavesdrops on our conversation."

Riza whipped around before Chris could blink again, making the woman chuckle. "Roy Mustang!" she snapped, anger ringing clear in her voice.

His hands flew up to his chest, open palms toward his former subordinate as he shook his head violently. "I swear I wasn't!"

"I think I'll take that as my cue to leave," Chris said, her large frame still quivering from laughter. With a groan, she lifted herself from her chair and walked out of the small office, bourbon in one hand and cigarette in the other. "Never know when those girls are ditching work for a quickie unless you're out there keeping them on a leash."

Riza stood, still fuming. "You _know _how risky this is, Roy."

The lines on his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair. Dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual, a sure sign he had not slept in several days. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, leaning more heavily on the doorframe and dropping his voice. "I needed to see you."

"You see me every day."

He stepped fully into the room, allowing the door to click shut behind him. "You know what I mean, Riza. I promise, I wasn't followed. There was a huge disturbance in West City this morning and even the men who tailed us got called in to sort it out. It's too foggy outside for any shadows."

Her face softened slightly. "You startled me."

"Sorry," he repeated, voice still low. "I cause you enough trouble already."

There was a brief pause as silence drowned out their thoughts and replaced them with fear. After a few seconds, Riza closed the distance between them and lifted her hand to smooth out the lines on his forehead. "Don't you start worrying about my troubles," she said softly, her voice even quieter than Roy's.

He lowered his head to rest next to hers, a hand tangling in the long, blonde hair and the other pressed tightly against her back, drawing Riza into a tight embrace. "I can't stop worrying."

"You can't afford to look at individual lives now, Roy. People have to be sacrificed, but it's the lives saved that we have to focus on."

His shoulders slumped, hand lowering as he tried to keep his breath even. "I can't lose anybody else," he whispered.

It took Riza a while to respond, her hands clenching tighter in his wrinkled white shirt. "Then you'll have to order us not to die."

Again there was silence, this time comforting and gentle. Roy's frame shook gently as exhaustion got the better of him and he began to cry. Fifty-six hours remained until the dawn of the Promised Day.

**Whoopsie, it's been a while! Shoutout to LadyMegido on tumblr ;)**


	49. Glass

Night fell hard and fast in the city, late autumn bringing the first frigid gusts and the resignation of another long winter on everyone's mind. The kitchen window's curtain was drawn back, bathing Riza's apartment in slivers of moonlight and long shadows that seemed to dance whenever she moved. Even from the third floor, she could hear the gentle hum of a city still in motion.

The door opened behind her and Riza looked up from the icebox, startled. Only one other person on earth had her key.

"Thought I might drop by," Roy muttered, shrugging as if his appearance was purely circumstantial, as if this was his own apartment and he came to drop a few things off before heading to work. His purpose lost, he stood in the doorway for a few minutes curling and uncurling his fists.

"You can't stay too long. There's an important meeting you need to be awake for in the morning," she reminded him, pulling out another carrot from the icebox drawer and shutting the door.

The gentle rhythm of a knife chopping filled the silence that followed, simultaneously awkward and comfortable. Roy couldn't quite understand how that was possible, but he appreciated it all the same as he fished around in one of the cabinets, pulling out two glasses and a half-full bottle of whiskey.

"I'd rather you didn't have a hangover, Roy," she warned gently, scooping up the carrots and dumping them unceremoniously into a hissing pan.

A shrug came in response, followed by a glass that slid across the counter, amber liquid rolling in waves that distorted the surface beneath them.

"I bought this last week," he said eventually, staring into the bottle and back up at Riza, eyes narrowed.

It was her turn to shrug as she pushed around the carrots in the pan and knocked back half the glass in a single swallow. "Keeps my dreams quiet."

He raised his glass, nodding gently.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I nagged you about it."

They fell into silence again, and Riza drew the curtain closed.

"We're pretty pathetic, aren't we?" she murmured, turning off the heat under the carrots and picking up her glass, swirling the drink slowly.

He chuckled humorlessly and hunched his shoulders, back pressed hard against the wall. "It's a good thing the Elrics never see us like this."

"Ed trusts you," Riza replied, taking another sip. Her eyes met his for a split second, amber flashing with brief purpose.

"That kid would trust a serial killer if they told him they had the philosopher's stone."

She smiled, "I wish you weren't right."

The glass rose to Riza's lips again as if from habit and she seemed surprised that it was empty. Roy raised the bottle. An invitation she didn't need.

"Why is it like this?" she murmured, flattening her back against the wall and sliding down it, knees to chest and empty glass on the floor beside her.

"It doesn't have to be," Roy muttered eventually, looking up from his half-empty glass at his lieutenant, "Not for you."

"You know I'm not going to leave you," she replied, voice wearly.

He ran his fingers through his hair for the seventh time that night and sighed, collapsing next to her in a heap of dark blue wool. They sat there for a long time, minutes turning to hours until glass after glass replaced time with something decidedly less quantitative.

"So," Roy muttered eventually, breath heavy with alcohol, "we're both going to be shit-faced tomorrow morning."

"No shit," she retorted, jamming her glass in his face. "How long did you have to think about that one?"

He tipped the bottle haphazardly, barely bothering to stop the flow before moving it to top off his own glass. A few drops splashed on the tile, left unnoticed by the pair until Riza's hand splashed into the puddle a half hour later and wiped it on his shirt with a sly smile.

Her hand paused over his heart, curling into a loose fistul of cloth as his heart beat. Several seconds passed without breath as she froze, her free hand caught in the air halfway to his face. Ever so slowly, she leaned in closer until he could taste the liquor on her breath mixing with the smell of her shampoo. He closed the gap between them as her eyes closed, pressing his lips to hers briefly before pulling back just enough to whisper to her.

"We shouldn't," he insisted, knowing his words meant little to him and even less to her. Riza opened her eyes slowly and looked him in the eye, her other hand finally touching his cheek and sending shivers down his spine.

She closed the distance between them again, and this time they broke apart only when they ran out of breath. His hands found the small of her back and he pressed her closer, marveling silently how perfect she felt against him.

"We shouldn't," she repeated eventually, after his shirt hand been unbuttoned and hers had somehow ended up in a crumpled heap across the room.

Roy only kissed her harder.

**Aaaand they frick fracked and everyone was happy except them in the morning with hella bad hangovers and no real memory of the previous night **


	50. Stew

Roy stirred the bowl of stew with little appeal. It had been nearly two days since his last real meal, but the shock of the day's events was enough to sap appetite out of nearly anybody. In any matter, Riza was not a good cook on her best day. While this was certainly better than most of the stuff back at the academy, he had begun to remember why he had valued Christmas' bar food so much on holidays.

She didn't seem too interested in the meal either, content with staring at the chipped bowl so intently Roy was surprised it didn't shatter then and there. Every few seconds she would adjust herself as if she was a teacher with a tack on the bottom of her chair, determined not to let the students have the victory of a reaction.

Her mouth opened and closed before she took a deep breath and looked down, focusing on picking the dirt out from under the fingernails instead of attempting empty conversation. Roy turned back to his stew, forcing down a few spoonfuls before pushing the bowl back.

"Sorry," she murmured. Her bangs fell before they were pushed back behind her ear roughly, her head turning away to avoid meeting his eyes.

"No, it's good," he reassured her quickly, "I'm just not hungry."

Riza shrugged and pushed her own bowl back, her shoulders relaxing as she gave up the facade of caring about dinner. The still-full bowls steamed gently, growing cold far before another word was spoken. The old grandfather clock in the hall chimed eight times, then nine, dutiful as always but alone and forgotten.

"You need to see before you leave."

Jolted out of a bleary half-sleep, Roy's head snapped up from the pillow he had made of his arms and spent far too long trying to comprehend the sentence.

"I know you have to leave in a few days, Mr. Mustang. The sooner you see, the better," she said. Her eyes were steady like he had always known them to be, but her voice shook and he didn't know why. It unnerved him, worry and curiosity mounting into concern the longer he listened, the longer he looked. She did not return to her fingernails, all too aware that there were no more distractions in nonexistent dirt.

He bit his lip, unwilling to respond. "I don't need it."

Riza's hands clenched into tight fists, shoulders stiff. She wasn't looking at him anymore, but the words that followed were low and unnatural, almost accusatory.

"I know you're lying."

"No, I'm _not,_" he said all too quickly, slamming his hands against the table a little too hard. Riza's head whipped around, meeting his eyes with fire he had never seen before. For the past three years, he had never heard her raise her voice, never seen her anywhere near this livid. thirteen years of being a shadow had to have been hell. He had never seen her angry.

But he had never seen her happy either.

The old oak table rattled from the force in her fists, the stew still left in the bowls splashing dangerously, threatening to spill over. She spoke through her teeth, caught somewhere between retreat and attack.

"You've been begging for this for two years. I know you need my father's research, and the sooner you see it, the better."

"I don't want this now!" he argued, "Your father just _died_, for god's sake, shouldn't we respect his memory for a while or something?!"

She pursed her lips, drawing a deep, shaky breath before replying, "In case you haven't _noticed,_ Mr. Mustang, my father and I did not have a particularly good relationship, and his death has not rendered me incapable of rational thought. You are a young soldier and the few days of leave you managed to get is exceptional in and of itself. You won't be able to get any more for quite a while, and I intend to be _long _gone by then."

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, wringing his hands together. Surrender.

The room fell again into silence. Riza sat frozen with her fists on the table, anger gone and and replaced with uncertainty.

"C-come on then," she stammered, her chair scraping against the floor as she stood up, "Best to do this in the lounge. There aren't any windows."

It took him a minute to stand, stomach turning with nerves. Despite her protest, the feeling that he was taking advantage of her still lingered in the back of his mind. Straightening his uniform - he hadn't bothered to change since arriving and he was beginning to regret it - he made his way down the hall, boots heavy against the hardwood.

Her back was toward him, covered by her jacket and hunched over in a way he wasn't altogether unused to.

As he stepped into the room, the jacket fell to the floor, exposing the gentle curves of her back.

He dared a step forward, lost for words in horrified fascination as his hand rose, trembling inches over the tattoo.

"You can touch it, Mr. Mustang," she murmured, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor, "I'm not sacred."

"What did he do to you?" he said, his voice faltering halfway through, seizing in his throat and forcing the last few words in a choked whisper. He knew exactly what Berthold Hawkeye had done to his daughter, and it sickened him. To think he had admired this man, to think he had begged on his knees for a chance of being his pupil, spent two years of his life trying desperately seeking the very secrets now penned in crimson across a seventeen year old girl's back. A lump rose in his throat and it refused to be swallowed back down.

Roy forced himself back into reality and lowered his hand, shrugging his coat off as quickly as he could to avoid any questions he knew she would ask.

Her head snapped, surprised, as he draped the coat around her shoulders.

"You need to see," she said, clutching the coat as tightly as she could, her resolution all but gone. A gentle hand spun her around, and another caught her back, pulling her into a tender, firm hug.

Roy's efforts to calm himself failed miserably, and his chest shook with each breath. Tears fell onto Riza's cheeks, though she showed no signs of crying herself. Instead she remained frozen in shock, mouth hanging open, arms still crossed over, holding his coat like her life depended on it.

"I'm sorry."

It was enough. Riza too began to cry, burying her head in the scratchy wool of his uniform, unsure of whether the tears came from relief or pain.

_**Merry Christmas! I suck at happy things!**_

_**This is also my "I sort of suck because I managed to come to your party but did not get you a gift" present to sunarose. **_


	51. Night

_Rocking, rolling, riding,_

_Out along the bay,_

_All bound for Morningtown,_

_Many miles away_

He was young when he came to learn from her father, but she was younger still. Neglected and lonely, Riza's attempts to put herself to bed were often futile and Roy could hear her snuffles through the walls nearly every night. Master Hawkeye, for all his knowledge, was blind and deaf to the needs of his daughter and left her mostly to her own devices.

The earth over the grave in the backyard was still fresh and overturned as a cruel reminder of what happened only a few weeks before he had arrived. Rumors spread faster than the people could carry them, bitter and biting, for no one had the guts to approach the manor and inquire to the true nature of Eliza Hawkeye's untimely death. He often heard that one of Master Hawkeye's experiments had gone wrong. Another story insisted that she had never been quite right after her father disinherited her, frail in mind and in body. His own speculation was tuberculosis, though he doubted even he would ever know the real story.

He had a habit of falling asleep in strange places with a book over his head and waking up in the small hours of the morning to the jolting chime of the grandfather clock in the parlor. It was far from comfortable to come back into consciousness sprawled out on the attic stairs, but it was the third time this week and Roy only managed a grimace, twisting around the vain effort of straightening out the knots in his back.

Riza's door down the hall was cracked open, light slipping through, muddled by shadow and grime. Oddly enough, there was no sound coming from her room. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or unnerved, but the silence was a break from the tears she always tried to hide.

Roy found himself walking past his own bedroom and hesitating in front of hers, hand covering the doorknob. He knew what it was like to lose a parent – that could help, couldn't it?

His own mother flashed into his mind in a memory half mixed with a photograph. He couldn't miss her. Not like Riza missed her mother. His was some strange mix of desire and longing, not truly remembering but unable to leave his mind, a ghost that could never really leave him but would never be there for him either. Riza's loss was an open wound, fresh and gaping with no hope of bandaging.

Nevertheless, he pulled the door open a little wider.

"Mama?" came a soft, shaky voice, broken and yet impossibly hopeful.

His heart fell as he stepped into the room, hand tugging at the hair on the back of his head like it always did when he felt a lump growing in his throat.

"Sorry," he mumbled, staring down at the carpet, "just me."

"Oh."

Unsure of what to do, they did nothing at all. Riza wiped her eyes furiously, but the tears refused to stop.

"You can cry. It's okay," he said finally, daring a step toward her.

She shook her head, fists clenching in the old quilt that covered her bed. "Papa says I'm six now. Big girls don't cry like babies do."

Roy shrugged, turning to sit next to her and covering her hand with his. "Everybody cries, though. Aunt Chris says it's a way for the sad to get out so it's not all bottled up inside you all the time."

Riza didn't respond, choosing instead to lean against her father's apprentice and bury her face in his wrinkled, threadbare dress shirt. Her tears were as quiet as a six year old could manage, deep, heaving sobs that made her entire body shake. At a loss on how to help her further – a nine year old's intuition could only stretch so far, after all – Roy only pulled Riza into his lap and rocked her back and forth gently.

"It'll get easier, okay?" he murmured, running a hand through her hair and watching his own tears fall onto her small, blonde head. "I promise."

She only wept.

**Shh my friends. It hasn't been two months. I'm not a horrible human being at all.**


End file.
